Deere Family
by ComicalEpiphanies
Summary: The mirror brought them out of the abyss. The prophecy forced them out of his life. The name kept them alone. Six years later, the headmaster told them it was time... Harry's sixth year. Vague plot of HBP, no DH. Alternate universe after OotP.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

Albus Dumbledore watched as the mirror in front of him swirled with brilliant colors. His face showed no signs of surprise at the mirror's show; he'd been expecting such a performance. That was the deal, after all. The mirror would protect the stone and in return, the Headmaster would be there when it fulfilled its task.

The old warlock hadn't asked what his reflection had meant by "task". He hadn't needed to. He was staring into the Mirror of Erised; there could only be one answer.

Young wizards and witches were told many legends, but the legend of the Mirror of Erised had always been Dumbledore's favorite. It spoke of a powerful queen, who, being very vain and spoiled, ordered a mirror to be built by her most powerful mages to give her whatever she wanted most. After months of careful construction and many enchantments, her chief mage presented the Mirror of Erised to his queen.

_"You need only to look into its surface and it will give you your heart's desire," the mage instructed._

_ "Show me!" the queen commanded. _

_ The mage bowed deeply and pulled the cover off the magnificent mirror, but in his haste to follow her orders, he forgot to avoid looking at its glassy surface. His eyes focused on the image reflecting back and in that moment, the mirror granted his wish._

_ "The mirror! Give the mirror!" the queen cried, her impatience reaching its pivotal point._

_ The mage ripped his eyes from the reflection and bowed even deeper, all the while hoping the mirror had failed. _

_ The queen stared greedily into her own perfect reflection as the poor mage held his breath, waiting for her verdict._

_ "Where is it?" the queen asked, searching for the chest of pearls she'd seen in the mirror. "Why is it taking so long?"_

_ The mage didn't dare lift his head for fear of her retribution. _

_ "It's not here! You IDIOTS!" she screamed. "This is nothing more than a scour-glass!" _

_ The chief mage ran to take it away as the queen bellowed her disappointment. "Forgive me, my queen," he begged as he covered the mirror. _

_ The queen yelled for him to get out and the mage wasted no time, taking the mirror with him._

_ He brought the looking-glass home to his daughter that night._

_ "What did her Highness say when the mirror gave her her wish?" his daughter asked, running to greet him at the door._

_ The mage sighed and told her the story, leaving nothing out. When he finished, she had a single question: "What was your wish?"_

_ "I do not know," was her father's response._

_ His daughter was silent for a long moment. "I believe I know. Father, you must cast another spell. Let it grant one wish every century. No more, no less."_

_ "But my daughter, the mirror failed."_

_ "No Father, it did not."_

_ The mage made no more objections. He cast the spell and, on his daughter's request, hid the mirror from the world. _

Legend had it that the mirror was fought over for millennia, and so it was. The mirror passed through the ages, seeing war and happiness, ignored by time and untouched by weather.

Eventually it was discovered in a secret cave in the mountains and was brought to Hogwarts for safekeeping.

So here it was, in front of Albus Dumbledore, granting the wish of the age to the next in the line of true and un-expecting souls. With one last tug of long-forgotten magic, the swirling colors stopped, the job complete.

"Welcome back."

* * *

**A/N: I've completed the first ten chapters, but I've not decided whether I'm going to post them all yet. This is the tester, so review and tell me if you want me to continue now or wait until I've got more of it written. **


	2. Explanations

Chapter One: Explanations

"I thought it would be you," the old headmaster said. His voice was as even as it had always been, but the bright sparkle behind his blue eyes betrayed his deep seeded emotions.

The man on the floor was the first to come to his senses. "Professor Dumbledore…Albus? Is that you?"

Dumbledore dipped his head affirmatively. "Who else, my boy?"

The woman beside the shocked man looked around. "But how? It can't be!"

The wry smile that the old wizard was so famous for appeared. "If you will follow me to my office, I will try to explain." Dumbledore turned to the door, but the man stopped him.

"Wait a moment. We aren't going anywhere until you prove you are who you say you are. Tell us something only Albus Dumbledore would know."

"No. Summon Fawkes," his wife – for that was who the woman was – interrupted.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes grew brighter. "As you wish." He closed his eyes and the next second the couple sprang back from the flash of fire that marked the entrance of the famed phoenix.

The couple relaxed noticeably at the sight and the feeling of warmth created by the phoenix's strong song. Dumbledore noticed the softness and started again.

"Please follow me to my office. There is less chance of interruptions."

After a silent, but meaningful, communication between the man and the woman, they followed the headmaster.

* * *

Dumbledore studied his guests for a moment before saying, "You must have some questions –"

"What happened?" the man interrupted, running his hands through his black crop forcefully, making his already messy hair even worse. The calming effect of Fawkes's song had long-since worn off and the bird hadn't sung again.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and steeped his fingers. "First I must ask you what you remember last."

The couple shared a glance before the woman spoke. "I remember _him. _He tried to get me away from -- oh God--!"

"He is alive," Dumbledore reassured her before nodding for her to continue.

The woman smiled faintly in relief before she took a deep breath and continued her story. "Then came the green light. It was so bright and--" she broke off again and her husband pulled her closer. He too remembered that light.

He pushed away the memory of it rushing toward him with the speed of a thousand years crammed into a moment. He remembered the feeling of his soul being ripped from his body and the last thought he could think before…before it took him. And he remembered the white feeling – he couldn't explain it any other way. The memory drowned out his wife's voice for a few seconds before he pushed it back.

"Then I felt this tug, like I was being pulled and a strange fuzzy feeling before I was pushed through the—?"she was saying.

"Mirror. Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore supplied. He heard the man breath in sharply at the name but decided not to comment. "Was it the same for you?" he asked instead, turning to the man.

The man yanked himself out of the trance of his realization to look at his former headmaster. He nodded. "Yeah. Exactly like that. Was it the mirror? Is that what pulled us back from-- wherever we were?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I believe so."

The woman looked at her husband and the old wizard in confusion. "What? How could a mirror bring us back from the dead? We were dead, weren't we, Albus?"

Again, Dumbledore nodded. "But you see, the Mirror of Erised is not just another mirror."

"In the story, it can grant a wish every hundred years, but that's just a story. Right?" the man cut in.

The woman looked even more puzzled. For the first time in a long time, she wished she'd grown up in the wizarding world like her husband. "How?"

Her husband turned to the elder wizard. "Excellent question, my flower. How Albus? The legend never says how."

"Ah, we've reached the most important question of them all. _How_." Dumbledore stood up and started pacing softly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I believe that when the mage first looked into the mirror, he wished that only the wishes from a truly selfless and unassuming soul would be granted. When the mage cast the last spell, he gave it the power it needed to fulfill its tasks, no matter the difficulties."

The woman looked at her husband, a question about the legend playing on her tongue, but let it fade when she saw the look of dawning comprehension on his face.

"So you are saying someone's deepest wish was for us to return from the dead? Who was it? Sirius? Remus?"

Dumbledore returned to his seat and smiled, his eyes bouncing back to life from their momentary freezing at the man's words. "No, not them—"

"Then—" The woman stopped halfway through her interruption, having reached the answer to her own question.

Dumbledore's light smile grew a bit. "The wish was from your son: Mister Harry Potter."

-

-

-

"So where do we go from here?" James Potter asked after the shock had worn off and Dumbledore had finished telling them about their son's first year at Hogwarts.

"We go see him, of course!" Lily Potter exclaimed, shocked that her husband even had to ask.

James was about to respond, but Dumbledore broke in before he could. "I'm afraid you can't."

Both Potters swung around to gape at the old headmaster. "Like hell we're not!" James said.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes faded. "No, James, you will. The mirror knows only the heart's deepest desires, it cannot know fate. Harry's fate is to destroy Voldemort and he can only do that by being strong. And that, he must learn through experience. Experience and self-reliance."

"So you're saying our son must be alone?" Lily's voice was shrill and spiteful.

"How could you know Harry's fate?" James asked before his wife could _really _show her anger.

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment before he answered. "There was a prophecy made a few months after Harry's fifth birthday."

"Another _prophecy_? Since when do you put any stock in prophecies, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore slowly turned to face the livid redhead, wanting to postpone the icy-green glare for as long as possible. "Since I have."

"Divination, and indeed, any magic, only has power if you believe in it," James countered angrily.

"That is true," Dumbledore conceded, bowing slightly under James's steady hazel eyes. "But it has already been set in motion, and like the prophecy from young Harry's birth, it is too late to stop it."

"Really? What makes you so sure?" Lily's frustration had curbed slightly, but her tone and icy glare made Dumbledore falter again.

"Because I have already seen it. Your son defeated Voldemort for the second time just twelve hours ago, correct?" The couple in front of him nodded, somewhat impatiently. "How do you think he did that?"

Lily answered before James could. "By his talent and luck."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, but there was something else, something that Sybil Trelawney spoke about in her prophecy. Young mister Potter survived by love – the love you gave him when you died to protect him," he inclined his head in Lily's direction, "and the will to prove himself."

"Prove himself? But, Albus, he doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. We need to tell him that, don't you see? He needs to know that we love him." Lily was almost pleading now.

"Lily, I think Albus is right."

Lily shot around to glare at her husband. "You? How can you say that? How can you let your only son grow up alone?"

James winced. "I'm not saying it will be easy, or that it's even the right thing in the long-run, but for now, we must trust him."

"But why, James? Why?"

"Harry has a destiny that will not be easy to fulfill. He has shown that love is his key, his greatest strength, but he needs his ambition if he can get anywhere. I'm afraid this is the only way. Harry must discover his power by himself. Until he has, you are merely distractions."

Dumbledore's words, while spoken in a neutral tone, cut the young couple to the core. It cut through their emotions, allowing them to see the truth: Harry had to be alone.

So James and Lily Potter did the one thing they could: they left their boy alone.

* * *

**A/N: As you can see, I've decided just to go ahead and post. I'm sorry for the delay, but I promised myself I wouldn't post again until I wrote another chapter. That chapter also formed into something more resembling HBP, so it seems this fic is evolving into a re-write of the sixth book. It will not have all the elements of it, however, as I hate direct lifts. I will be as new as possible. On another note, I want to give a blanket thanks to everyone who's reviewed. You know who you are, so I won't name them, but know that it was wonderful. Please keep it up! **


	3. Request

**A/N: Hello. I know it's been a while, but I won't bore you with excuses. It's here now and that's all that matters. I want to thank those of you who've alerted and reviewed; it's nice to be seen. **

* * *

Chapter Two:

James Potter, now Paxton Deere, was just putting the last dish away from breakfast when the bird swooped in from the outside window. Almost before it crossed the windowsill, James had his wand out and the owl was lying stunned on the kitchen table.

"Pansy!" James yelled.

Ten seconds later, Lily Potter – or, as she had been called for nearly five years, Pansy Deere – came charging into the kitchen, her wand out and face flushed. "What? What's wrong?" she started, and then her eyes fell on the stunned owl. "Really, Pax, was that necessary?"

James blushed a little under his dark brown hair. "How did it find us?" he avoided.

Lily approached the disgruntled owl carefully. "Probably because it's from Albus."

James immediately felt guilty. He should have known the only person powerful enough to one, find their carefully-warded house, and two, perform the charm necessary to let an owl find the house, meant them no harm. If you could consider keeping them away from their son…but that was water under the bridge now. "What does it say?"

Lily removed the scroll from the poor, but now awake, owl and tapped it lightly with her wand to unlock it. She cleared her throat softly before reading aloud:

"'_Dear Pansy and Paxton, I hope this letter finds you well. I hope the owl is in good health,'" _Lily looked up for a second to see the embarrassed expression on her husband's face and give herself time to marvel at Dumbledore's omniscience. "_'And now that the pleasantries are complete, I wonder if I might ask a favor of the both of you? _

"'_Professor McGonagall recently informed me that she wishes to take a year long sabbatical to recover from her injuries obtained by last year's -- incident involving Hogwarts's former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As Minerva has not had a vacation in almost three decades, I, of course, agreed. But I do digress._

_ "'I seem to find myself without a transfiguration professor. Is there any chance I might have the honor of welcoming back one of Hogwarts's finest transfiguration students? Are you willing to teach, Paxton, my boy?'"_

Lily stopped reading for a moment to say, "Well, that was unexpected. Who'd've thought Albus Dumbledore would ever ask the ringleader of the worst pranksters in the history of Hogwarts back to teach?"

"Hey!" James defended, "We were the _best _pranksters in Hogwarts's history! And Sirius – " he stopped mid-sentence. It had been less than five weeks since James had watched his best friend fall behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries and it hurt too much to remember. He coughed and changed the subject. "Is that all he wrote?"

Lily glanced down. "No, there's a bit more." She looked back up to see if her comforting talents were needed, but James just gave her that I'm-fine-so-finish-reading-whatever-that-batty-old-headmaster-wrote look. She shrugged and continued:

_ "'As for you, Pansy, I was wondering if you were willing to share your extensive knowledge of defensive magic with the next generation of bright, young minds.'"_

"HAH!"James laughed, interrupting Lily before she could continue. "Looks like I'm not the only one going back!"

Lily wanted very much to slap her love on the shoulder, but she held back. "Wait, let him finish. Maybe he just wants me to help recruit members for the Order."

"Yeah, right? Want to bet?"

Lily decided she didn't. She had a terrible suspicion James Potter was correct. Not that she let him see it. No, James's head was just as big as it had always been, covered in messy black hair or not. She opted to finishing the letter instead.

"'_Would you be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year, Pansy?' _Don't say it, James Potter!" Lily ordered, quite forgetting to use James's alias. She didn't often slip, but James knew that when she did, he'd better keep his mouth shut, so he did. "_'You would, of course, be in the prime position to train the future members of the Order of the Phoenix, if you so choose. I look forward to your responses soon. _

"'_Sincerely, _

"'_Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'_"

Lily put down the letter.

"Well?" she asked after a few moments of silent contemplation. "Are we saying yes or no?"

James opened his mouth but instead of his deep baritone, they heard a loud crash and a silence that could only come from embarrassed children.

James looked at his wife. "It's your turn."

Lily sighed and said, "It's always my turn."


	4. Welcome

**A/N: Many thanks to the people who've reviewed/alerted this story. I hope you will continue (plus it's how I get new stories to read - I check out the favorites/stories from your profile). I have one request, however. If you alert, _please_ review. It's nice to hear why you alerted, even if it's just one line, not to mention school is hard and I need pick-me-ups every once in a while. There, I'm finished. Enjoy chapter three. No promises on chapter four, except that its title is INTRODUCTIONS. **

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Chapter Three: Welcome

A month after the Deeres, nee Potters, had received his letter and a few days before the start of the new term, Dumbledore found himself waiting in front of the fireplace in his office. He didn't have to wait long. Less than three minutes after he'd assumed his position, the old wizard heard the sound of whooshing air and two distinct thuds.

"Daddy! It's so shiny!"

Dumbledore laughed as a girl no older than four charged at him and immediately started playing with the end of his silver beard – the only part of it she could reach.

"Daisy!" James reprimanded, dragging the couple of trunks that they'd flooed with out of the fireplace. "What have we talked about?"

Daisy Deere didn't blush as she regretfully let go of the headmaster's beard and turned back to her father. "Say please and thank-you?"

Dumbledore had a hard time keeping his face straight as James explained that no, in this case she should remember that touching other people wasn't nice until you said hello. Ah, how he loved youth!

After a minute in which Dumbledore was sure Daisy was only pretending not to understand to trick her father, the fire again turned green.

"It's so pretty!" a second voice said, not a three seconds later.

"Oh, no you don't!" James pulled the second girl – who, now that Dumbledore got a good look at her, looked exactly like the first – just as she was about to feel Dumbledore's beard.

The girls in James's arms giggled as James tickled them lightly in the stomach with his chin while Lily pulled the last of the trunks out of the fireplace.

Dumbledore broke in before the twins could get into an all-out tickle war with their father. "Who are these lovely young women?" he asked, his eyes twinkling merely.

Lily pulled the first (or was it the second? Dumbledore wasn't absolutely sure anymore) girl out of James's arms and set her down on the floor. "This is Daisy and that one," she nodded to the girl still in James's arms, "is Marigold, or Mary if you prefer. Girls, say hello to Grandpa Albus."

Daisy giggled again and stuck her hand out, clearly trying to imitate someone much older, but mostly failing. Dumbledore glanced at the Potter parents before bending low to shake the little girl's tiny hand. "Hello Miss Daisy. How old are you?"

Daisy puffed out her chest. "Six!"

Dumbledore glanced at the Potters again, this time in surprise.

"They're almost five," James clarified, ducking Mary's fist, which was drifting closer to a large clump of his hair.

"Can I touch your hair now?" Daisy asked, quite unexpectedly.

Dumbledore laughed loudly and bent down again to let the youngling play with his beard. Mary, who seemed just as interested, joined Daisy a few moments later in playing with the silver and, Dumbledore prided himself, very silky beard.

"Girls! Really? Is that necessary?" Lily cried, exasperated. "I'm so sorry, Albus. They have a strange obsession with silver."

"It's quite alright, Pansy. I don't mind at all," Dumbledore said truthfully. He could sympathize with the twins' interest in his beard. He himself loved to twirl it around his fingers. That was why he kept it so long, to play with it.

Lily rolled her eyes and James smiled. "Come on Fawnies, let's go get settled in. Who wants a ride?"

The twins immediately forgot about the beard in favor of their father.

"Prongs?" Mary asked. Her voice, Dumbledore noted, was a little softer than Daisy's and more timid.

James glanced at Dumbledore, his expression questioning. Dumbledore knew why.

"There is no one here who could make the connection," he replied.

Lily still looked uncomfortable, but by the time she'd opened her mouth, it was too late. Her daughters were already trying to climb onto the back of a large, handsome stag. Lily rolled her eyes and gently set the girls on the stag's back, making sure to add the minor sticking charms she'd made James promise never to let them ride without.

The stag – Prongs – turned to watch her place the charms on the twins and him before he started walking slowly to the door of the office.

Lily and Dumbledore followed the laughing twins and proud stag down the stairs. "How has he been, Albus?" she asked, as soon as her husband had turned the corner.

Dumbledore turned to look at the woman. "He is as good as one can expect."

"Is he going to be in my class?" Lily asked after a few more minutes.

Her question made Dumbledore smile again. "Young Harry is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts student in fifty years. I believe you were at the meeting where Mundungus Fletcher told the Order about Harry's DA?"

Lily stopped to look at the headmaster in the eye. "No, I don't think so. I only made it to a few meetings – the twins, you know."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "Well, your son was the spearhead of the movement to remove Deloris Umbridge from Hogwarts."

Lily knew she should be angry that her son had overthrown a professor, but she knew she was actually proud that her son had stood up for something he believed in. "What did he do, exactly?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "He set up a Defense Against the Dark Arts study group. Or should I say, taught select students practical defensive magic right under the Ministry's nose? I believe they called it Dumbledore's Army. Quite nice, actually."

"My son did that?" Lily had a sudden wish to see her son and tell him how proud she was. But the feeling was marred by the knowledge that his talent had come at the price of her never being able to say that to him.

Dumbledore laid his hand on the woman's shoulder as if he knew what she'd been thinking. "I believe this year will be different, Lily."

Lily jerked at his use of her real name – she hadn't heard him call her that since James had told him what their aliases were when they'd asked to re-join the order. She recovered herself enough to ask, "How?"

Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Because he's come into his gifts. It's time for him to have what he couldn't before."

Lily was about to say something when James, back in his human form and carrying a twin under each arm shouted, "Which way to our quarters, Albus?"

* * *

**A/N: To those that celebrated Easter, I hope you had fun. To those who didn't, I hope you had a good weekend. **


	5. Introductions

**A/N: I am sorry it's taken so long to get this up. AP exams are coming up and it's like all my teachers suddenly realized they hadn't finished the textbook. I'm not going to make any promises about the next chapter. **

* * *

Chapter Four: Introductions

"NEWTs are—" Hermione stopped talking mid-sentence, something that had never happened in Ron's or Harry's ready memory. In fact, the behavior was so starling, Harry immediately followed her eye-line with his hand inching toward his wand.

"Who are they?" Ron asked, just as Harry was about to ask the same thing.

Hermione started saying something, but Harry was too busy studying the new faces at the head table to notice.

The woman in the traditional DADA seat was looking at him and Harry felt this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stared into the woman's eyes. They were a deep emerald and were heavy with so many emotions, Harry couldn't concentrate. The eyes were oddly familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd seen them. The longer he tried to remember, the farther the memory seemed to slip. He yanked himself away from their hypnotizing depth, instead focusing on her face as a whole.

She was pretty and young, no older than thirty-five with golden-brown hair that glinted dark red when she turned her head to watch the other new face place the sorting hat on the stool. Her movement jarred Harry out of his trance and he switched his focus to the man.

He looked to be the same age as the woman, with the same mixture of unidentifiable emotions. He had short, semi-curly, brown hair that seemed out of control, despite its length. He had a strong jaw and when he started reading the list of the new first years, Harry noticed his voice was a rich baritone that he almost recognized.

"Isn't he in the Order?" Hermione asked softly from her position to his right as soon as the sorting hat had finished its song.

Harry jumped and looked at his best friend. "What?"

Hermione opened her mouth to repeat her question, but was interrupted by the sorting hat shouting, "RAVENCLAW!" She tried again, but this time something under the table distracted Harry. Confused, he bent down to see what in the world was happening, and was met by the brightest hazel eyes he'd ever seen.

He jumped back so quickly, he smashed his head into the table, startling the Gryffindors near him. "Ouch!"

"Shush!" the girl said, flapping her hands in the way only a five year-old could. "They'll find us!"

"Who's 'they'? Who's 'us'?" Harry asked, more confused than ever.

"Shush!" The girl pressed her finger against her mouth before returning to pulling Harry's shoelaces out of their knot.

"Stop that!" Harry cried, trying to pull his shoe away.

"Harry, who are you talking to?" Hermione asked.

Harry sat back up. "The girl under the table."

Ron spat out the food he'd just stuffed into his mouth. "You okay, mate?"

Harry tried to shake the little hands off his shoelaces again before turning to his friend. "There's a girl trying to steal my laces!"

"Harry, there's no one," Hermione ducked under the table and immediately sat up again. "Harry's not crazy," she finished.

"Wha'?" Ron asked, and much to Harry's shock, sounding surprised at the notion that he wasn't insane. He'd have to talk to Ron about that soon, he decided.

"Look for yourself," Hermione shrugged, serving herself some roast beef.

Harry, meanwhile, was still fighting with the girl over his shoelaces. She'd managed to remove both the strings now. After a few more moments of silent, yet gripping action, he let her go. He was hungry and there was no way for him to win. She had the upper-hand. Or was it the lower-hand?

**OOOOOO**

"Now that our appetites are filled for the hour, I have a few announcements to make," Dumbledore started half-an-hour later. "The Forbidden Forest is still forbidden, should any of you older students be wondering. Mr. Filch, our wonderful caretaker, has asked me to tell you that _all _products from the store Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes have been banned." Here Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily. "And finally, I am sorry to say Professor McGonagall has decided to take the year off," he paused again, this time to let the chatter from his statement settle down, "but Professor Paxton Deere will be holding her position for the year."

Harry was surprised when the new transfiguration teacher stood up and bowed impressively with a wide smile at his introduction. He was hit with a sudden memory of Sirius doing that exact same motion back when he was first introduced to the new members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"And this year the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts will be held by Professor Pansy Deere."

There was a sudden burst of giggling underneath the Gryffindor table that continued on through the polite applause. After a moment of the student body trying to place the noise, Professor Dumbledore added, "And their twin daughters, Daisy and Marigold Deere."

"She likes Mary!" a high voice returned almost at once.

The whole hall (minus most of the Slytherins) burst into laughter as a "stern-faced" transfiguration teacher hurried down to pull his twin girls out from under the table.

Dumbledore, wiping tears of amusement out of the corner of his eye, finished his speech by saying, "Now off to bed with you all. Prefects, please show the first years the way!"

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**A/N: What did you think? Please tell me. Encouragement is always welcome. Thank you to those who reviewed and/or alerted the story. **


	6. Reassurance

**A/N: Hello all. This chapter was supposed to be part of chapter four, but somehow I goofed. I just realized I'd not copied it into the right document. I thought about going back and fixing it, but then how would you all know there'd been a change? So I decided that I might as well post it as the next chapter. Here it is. **

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Chapter Five: Reassurance

"_Don't you dare let go, Padfoot! Don't you let go!" James could feel his grip slipping but he wouldn't let it happen. He _couldn't_ let it happen._

_ A spark of realization flitted into Sirius's eyes. "'Padfoot'? Prongs?" His eyes were starting to mist, the veil pulling harder, but James wouldn't let him go so easily. _

_ "Stay with me! Fight it!" he shouted. _

_ "James!" Sirius cried, then he succumbed to the power of the veil and James felt the ice of death creep up his best friend's body. _

_ "No! Help me, Padfoot, I can't do it alone!" James tugged again, the ice coming closer and closer, his grip slipping. _

"NOOOOOO!" James screamed, sitting straight up in bed.

"Quiet!" Lily commanded forcefully, pulling her husband back into the bed. He let her, still half-trapped in the memory. "Which was it?" she whispered.

James swallowed, trying to shake the cold and memory away. "Sirius."

"Hush," Lily whispered, rubbing smooth circles over his chest, feeling the heavy thumping of his heart. "It wasn't your fault. You did all you could."

James shrugged her hand away, but Lily just put it back on his chest and laid her head next to it. "I could have tried harder," he mumbled into the darkness.

"No, you know you couldn't have. The veil was too strong and even with your wand, there was no way you could have beaten it. Not with him already wounded. He was gone, James. He was gone the moment Bellatrix cast the spell." Lily spoke softly and slowly, hoping that _this _time the words would sink in.

"I never should have left his side."

Lily lifted her head from his chest. "So you would have done what? What could you have done that you weren't already doing?"

James was silent for a long moment. "I should have been closer to him. We could have fought together."

"You were, James. You, Sirius, and Remus. You fought together to save Harry's life. The Order saved our son. No, the _Marauders_ saved _their_ son." Lily's eyes, still that startling emerald no matter how many times she tried to cover them, stared determinately into James's disguised hazel ones. "Sirius died the way he'd always said he would. It's time you accepted that."

James was still for a very long time, so long, in fact, that Lily thought he'd fallen asleep. She was about to do the same when he spoke. "Thank you, Lily."

She pushed herself up to his face again and kissed him on the lips gently. "I love you, James Potter."

James smiled and pulled her back into the kiss, the nightmare temporarily forgotten.

* * *

"What do you think of the new professors, Harry?" Hermione had asked earlier that night.

At the time, Harry had just shrugged and said they seemed okay, but in the darkness and solitude of his four-poster bed, he found himself pondering the question more.

He kept trying to place that feeling he'd gotten in the pit of his stomach when he looked at Professor Pansy Deere. It had been familiar, he was almost sure of it, but he couldn't place it, just like he couldn't place those eyes or Paxton Deere's voice. Every time he thought he was getting closer, the memory would slip again. He was getting to the point where it didn't matter anymore.

Finally he got to sleep.

_"Are you hurt?" a strong, rushed baritone asked, falling beside Harry. "Did they catch you?"_

_ "No, but Ron, he was attacked by these things. I think they were brains, and Hermione was hit. I don't know about Ginny or Luna. Neville was right beside me," Harry rambled. _

_ The man put a rough hand over his mouth to stop the flood of words. "We found them, they're on their way out."_

_ "Are they --?"_

_ "They are alive." A streak of muddy-purple light whizzed by and smashed into the stone above them. "Get down!" the man cried, yanking Harry into the hard ground. "Stay here until someone gets you! Don't move!"_

_ In a flash, he was gone. _

Harry woke up panting, like he'd actually been in the Department of Mysteries again. After a minute or two of staring into the blurry darkness, Harry relaxed. It was just a memory. And at least now Harry knew why Deere had seemed so familiar. Hermione had been right; he was in the Order.

Harry thought about Professor Paxton Deere again. He remembered glancing over his shoulder at the man. He'd been fighting alongside Sirius and Remus, if Harry recalled correctly. The three seemed to know each other so well.

He had a sudden flash of Sirius being stunned into the veil, but this time he remembered something other than Sirius's shocked expression. Someone had been there, had tried to save him while Harry had been held back by Remus. Paxton Deere.

The longer he thought about it, the clearer it became. Deere had held on for so long, screaming something Harry couldn't make out over the spells and curses, but that didn't matter. What did matter was Deere had tried to save his godfather. And in Harry's book, that meant Deere was going to be a _very_ good teacher.

* * *

**A/N: I recently received a couple of comments requesting longer chapters. They said that they were too short and not substantial enough. I can accept that, but I just wanted you all to know that this story is Harry's sixth year. It has a plot, I promise, but it might be a while. Trust me that everything I've mentioned will play a role in the near or not-so-near future. As for the length, I am trying to make them longer. Unfortunately, unless I really push, they all finish around one thousand words, about three pages. I handwrite everything and so I tend to under or overestimate the amount of pages. I have been able to write a couple of longer ones, however. They will probably be scattered throughout the story. Sorry, but it's the best I can promise. **

**Thank you again to those who've reviewed/alerted/favorited. More is always welcome. I'll try to post again soon, but AP exams are upon us. Where did the school year go?**


	7. DADA

**A/N: Remember those longer chapters I promised? Well, here's the first one. Enjoy.**

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Chapter Eight: DADA

"Come on, we're going to be late," Hermione commanded two days later.

"'Mione, class doesn't start for another ten minutes," Harry said calmly.

Hermione looked at her best friend like he'd been hit by one of Ginny Weasley's bat-bogey hexes. "It's Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"So?" Ron asked around a huge piece of sausage he'd just shoved in his mouth. "Wh' misth foo'?"

Hermione rolled her eyes while everyone in the vicinity tried not to look at the half-masticated pig rolling around in Ron's wide-open trap. "Have you not heard what everyone's been saying?" She looked exasperatedly at her best friends' clear confusion. "About Professor Deere?"

"Which one?"

"DADA Deere. Anyway, I heard she's the best since Professor Lupin."

"Well of course. It's not like Umbridge was even in the running," Harry said heatedly.

Hermione looked flustered. "Yes, well, she must be pretty good. Everyone was talking about her in the bathroom."

Ron choked and sprayed pumpkin juice down the table. "You talk about professors in the bathroom?" he sputtered.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione replied, flicking her wand absently and whispering a cleanup charm to get rid of the sprayed juice. "Where else do you think I'd get the gossip?"

Harry sat straight up, causing Hermione and Ron to pause in their pre-bickering warm-up. And then, suddenly, their best friend was under the table for no apparent reason. After a second of stunned silence, they heard Harry yelling for someone to "give them back!"

A moment later, Harry Potter reappeared looking a little worse for the wear.

"You okay there, mate?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry grabbed his book-bag and shot the Gryffindor table an accusatory glare as he hurried away.

Ron stuffed the last of his breakfast into his mouth and followed. "Wh' 're," he swallowed thickly, "we leaving?"

"They tried to do it again," Harry explained, not slowing his speed.

"Do what?" Hermione asked as she jogged to catch up with the speedy black-haired teen.

"Steal my laces."

Ron couldn't help but snort. "Again? How many times is that?"

"Five," Harry grumbled. "It's like they have a second sense or something. They know where I'm going to sit and when. Every time I go in there, I end up being robbed." He hitched his book-bag further up on his shoulders. "I think I need to hex my shoes."

Ron and Hermione stopped. "Why?" Hermione asked.

"It's the only think that I can think of to stop them from stealing my laces."

"Really, Harry, don't you think you're overreacting a little?" Hermione made her voice soothing, like a mother trying to comfort a panicking son.

"No, Hermione, I'm not. I have to stop this now, else they'll never quit."

"Too true, mate. Percy ignored Fred and George and look what happened," Ron interjected, nodding wisely.

"Thank you!" Harry replied.

"You have thirty seconds before this door closes," a voice spoke from just inside the DADA classroom.

Hermione blushed at almost being late and charged into the room, closely flanked by her best friends.

OOOOO

Professor Lily Potter surveyed her first NEWT class of the year. She was surprised so many students had made it to NEWT. She couldn't remember how many students had been in her DADA sixth year, but it certainly hadn't been twenty-seven. She took a deep breath.

"Good morning. My name is Professor Pansy Deere. That's D-E-E-R-E," she added sternly after hearing a snicker from somewhere in the back. "Welcome to NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now, I know your education in this subject thus far has been fragmented, to say the least."

Lily paused to let the nods and sniggers die. "Yes, well, not this year. It will not be easy. Anyone who does not believe they are willing to put in the effort I call for, please leave now."

A few people exchanged looks but nobody moved. The corners of Lily's mouth curled upwards in a hint of a smile that only a select couple of Gryffindors and maybe a Ravenclaw caught before she continued.

"And now that that's taken care of, let's get started." Once again she looked around. She was pleased to see Harry looked interested. "The sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum focuses on dueling, so that's what we will do." The majority of the Gryffindors sat up straighter. "Nonverbally," Lily added.

Everyone but one – Hermione Granger, to be exact – let out a small groan. Lily smiled wryly at the sound but continued without stopping.

"You have this class twice a week, correct?" Lily didn't wait for an answer. "On your single periods, we will work on theory. The double periods will be spent on practical, or, if I deem it necessary, more theory. Homework will be practice and essays – at least one a week. Questions?"

Hermione immediately raised her hand.

Lily decided to play ignorant on the name-front. "Yes, Miss --?"

"Granger, Professor. Hermione Granger. I was wondering what type of dueling we will be doing."

"Practical. None of that ridiculous formal dueling you see in tournaments." Lily couldn't stop herself; her eyes flicked toward Harry. "What good are formalities when you are fighting a war?"

It took a moment for Lily to muster the necessary energy to extricate herself from the depths of her first-born's eyes and his look of obvious agreement and excitement. She quickly nodded to Neville Longbottom, who'd just raised his hand.

"What kind of spells will be learning?" Neville asked nervously.

"This term will be mostly learning to do all the spells you already know nonverbally with more advanced defensive magic as I see fit. Spring term, depending on how far you all are, will be curses." Lily answered coolly, suddenly glad she'd written out lesson plans.

Lily looked around at her class again and was pleasantly surprised to see everyone was sitting up a little straighter in their seats.

"On that note, I need to see where you all are, defense-wise. Everyone pair up with someone," Lily added after a second's pause.

Almost at once, the pairs were set. For the most part, they were segregated into houses, the most notable exception being Neville Longbottom and a Hufflepuff boy Lily was almost positive was called Finch-Fetch, or something along those lines.

"Good. Now, I'm going to call each of you up and--"

"Professor Deere?" Harry interrupted quietly.

Lily stopped. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't have a partner, Professor."

Lily looked around. Harry was right, everyone else had partners. She turned back to her son. "Well, Mr. Potter, would you be willing to duel me?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly, but that was the only sign he was hesitant. "Won't that reflect badly on my results?"

"Not at all," Lily replied. She faced the class as a whole again. "As I was about to say, I don't care who wins or loses, I just want to get an idea of where you are." She nodded to Harry again, "Don't underestimate yourself, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Lily gestured for everyone to stand up and flicked her wand lightly, sending all the desks flying to the sides. Another flick and her desk became a dueling platform.

The DADA professor looked down at her roll before saying, "Mr. Weasley, you and your partner please step up to the platform."

Ron and Hermione shared a confirming look before taking a deep breath and facing each other on the platform. They looked to Lily for permission to begin, and Lily suddenly remembered the shield.

"No curses that could land your partner in the hospital wing for longer than a couple of minutes," Lily said while casting the simple, yet powerful, shield charm that her husband had taught her before Harry was born around the perimeter of the stage. "The shield should stop most spells, but aim for your partner, please. Now begin."

Ron shot the first spell but Hermione ducked and shouted, "_Rictumsempra_!_"_

"_Protego_!_"_

"_Cunfundo_!"

"_Protego_!_ Impedimenta_!"

"_Protego_! _Stupify_! _Expelliarmus_!" Ron didn't have time to stop the disarming spell and his wand clattered into a corner. The tips of Ron's ears turned a little red, but he shook Hermione's hand before stepping down to let the Patil twins try their chances.

Lily was surprised at the level of most of her students. The duel between Neville Longbottom and Justin Finch-Fletchly (having read his name on her roster) was especially interesting. She'd heard that the Longbottom heir was a bit timid, but she never would have guessed it from the way he dueled. She was strongly reminded of his mother when they'd sparred together before they'd gone into hiding. She wasn't at all shocked when Neville sent Justin into uncontrollable giggles two minutes in, effectively winning the match.

The boy that couldn't have been anyone but Lucius Malfoy's son had done well in his match against Blaise Zabini, the only other Slytherin in the class. They'd exchanged some heaver curses – some that could be considered more dark than light, but Lily wasn't too surprised. They were Slytherins and Slytherins were nothing if not cunning. And she'd never been the kind of person to judge.

When the last pair (Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas) had left the platform, Lily banished her clipboard to her office and shrugged off her outer robe. "Ready, Mr. Potter?"

"Good luck, mate." Lily heard Ron whisper to her son. Harry nodded and pulled out his wand.

Lily waited until he looked reasonably ready before giving him the signal to begin. Harry attacked first with a well-placed _expelliarmus_, forcing Lily to use a shield instead of dodging. "_Parlosum_!" she fired back, speaking aloud for his benefit.

Harry barely avoided the babbling hex and shot a leg-locking spell back. Lily countered with a freezing jinx.

"Stop holding back, Harry!" Lily ordered a minute later, quite forgetting to call him by his family name.

"I'm not, Professor," Harry replied from behind the _protego _he'd just conjured.

"_Confundo_! Please don't insult me."

Harry paused in thought for a second and was nearly hit by Lily's vertigo hex. A moment later, Harry shot a _reducto _curse into the stage, knocking his mother off balance for a split-second.

Lily regained her footing before Harry could fire the finishing spell and repaired the stage without missing a beat. "Is that the best you've got?"

Harry didn't smile, his concentration completely on the duel for the first time. He pointed his wand at a floating candle and cried, _"Waddlewassy_!"

Lily probably would have laughed if she hadn't been dodging the flying candle. She'd invented that spell in her sixth year with Remus Lupin for their Arithmancy NEWT end-of-the-year project. "_Pyrostis_!"

Harry stopped the spell mid-flight with another freezing charm and shouted an _"Impedimenta_!" back.

Lily ducked again and shot, "_Concerta_!"

Harry, momentarily distracted by Seamus Finnigan's cheers, was caught off guard by the sparkling yellow light and unfamiliar spell. A second later the loudest music he'd ever heard pounded against his eardrums. He dropped his wand to clasp his hands around his ears.

The music stopped and he was pulled to his feet.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor," Lily said as she brushed the rubble from the repaired stage off his robe. "Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?"

Harry shook his head, trying to get the last couple of notes of _Ode to Joy _out of his head, and walked unsteadily to his best friends. Lily watched him before turning to the class as a whole. "Your homework is a two foot essay evaluating three different duels that you observed today. Do _not _write about your own."

The bell rang and everyone dashed to gather his or her things.

"Mr. Potter, please wait a moment!" Lily called over the hustle.

"Do you want—?"

"No, go," Harry interrupted Hermione. "I'll catch up."

Ron and Hermione looked at him questioningly, but Harry just turned back to the professor.

Lily was busy returning the room to its original state and Harry narrowly avoided a zooming desk. "You needed to talk, Professor Deere?" Harry started when he'd reached her desk.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. It won't take a moment. I was wondering whether you were going to continue the DA this year."

Harry's eyebrows came together in such a way that Lily was immediately reminded of her father. "How did you know about the DA?"

Lily smiled thinly. "Two ways, really. One, Albus told me, and two, it's all my fellow professors seem to talk about."

"Whatever they've said, it's not true," Harry mumbled. He raised his head and looked Lily in the eyes again. "I didn't do anything."

"Are you sure? I suppose you missed the looks a few of your classmates were giving you during our duel."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked very confused and embarrassed.

Lily had a sudden urge to pull him into her arms and laugh at his expression, but she contented herself with a short huff of amusement. "Your friends and enemies – yes, I know about the animosity between you and Mr. Malfoy, it's also all over the staff's room," Lily said, correctly reading her son's face, "admire you."

Harry shook his head quickly. "You must have misread their expressions. They were probably thinking about lunch."

Lily laughed for the first time all day. She contemplated arguing her point, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Harry was clearly more like her than James when it came to confidence and praise. "Be that as it may, think about the DA." She looked at her clock. "You'd better go before your friends think I'm a Death Eater intent on kidnapping you."

* * *

**A/N: Did that satisfy a few readers? I hope so. Thanks to those of you who've reviewed. I replied to the ones I could. Any questions? Comments? Please review. **


	8. Transfiguration

**A/N: I couldn't help myself. I am so looking forward to the next couple of chapters, I had to post this so soon. Plus, I am officially done with calculus AB! That's cause for celebration (until I get my AP scores back). So celebrate with me! **

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Chapter Nine: Transfiguration

Harry only just made it into the transfiguration classroom before the bell. Hermione glared reproachfully at him from the desk in front of him while Ron asked him what had taken so long.

"Professor Deere wanted to know if the DA's still on," Harry whispered back.

"Is it?" Ron sounded hopeful. Harry was about to reply when Professor Deere spoke.

"So, NEWT transfiguration!" Harry didn't miss the excited glint in the new professor's eye. "Congratulations all, you exceeded everyone's expectations!" James smiled broadly at the mismatch of house colors in front of him. "Unfortunately, the expectations just got that much higher."

Hermione sat up straighter in her chair while Ron shot Harry a what-are-we-doing-here expression. Harry shrugged and turned back to James.

"This year is my favorite year, anyone know why?"

Hermione's hand instantly shot up and James pointed at her. "Is it because we're going to study human transformations?" she asked curiously.

"Yes! Now, human transfiguration is perhaps one of the most difficult things you will ever do in the classroom. It takes practice and a good deal of luck, but when you learn it, you can become just about anything. Or anyone," he added, almost as an afterthought, but somehow Harry knew he was just adding flare.

Something in James's eye told Harry to raise his hand. "Like who, Professor?" he asked.

Instantly James's face lit up. Harry was hit with a sudden memory of the same excited glint in his godfather's eye just before he pulled a prank.

"Well," James pretended to think. "For example." James pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and turned around. The room was silent for a long couple of seconds before their teacher faced them again. "Like this."

Hermione gasped, and she wasn't the only one. James's eyes were now an emerald color and his hair had turned charcoal black. He was the splitting image – minus the scar – of her best friend.

"Wicked!" Ron said.

James laughed and waved his wand in front of his face to dispel the magic. "That was human transfiguration," he said, unnecessarily.

"Professor Deere?" Hermione started.

James's eyes shot to the doorway, a guilty look springing onto his face. "Where?" Then he realized whom Hermione was addressing and laughed loudly.

Everyone looked at each other, trying to figure out the joke. "Professor?" Hermione asked timidly.

James pulled himself together enough to say, "Sorry. I thought my wife was here." He pulled off his brown, squared glasses and wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. "Why don't you call me Professor Paxton, or just by my middle name? It might save some time."

"What's your first name, then?" Susan Bones asked. Then she realized what she'd said and blushed.

James smiled kindly. "Paxton."

"So you don't have a middle name?"

"No, I do. It's Paxton. My parents had a stutter." There were a few snorts in the back, but everyone seemed afraid to laugh. Harry wasn't surprised to see a flash of disappointment in Professor Paxton's eyes from his joke's lack of reception.

Hermione decided to pull the conversation back to her original inquiry. "Are you an animagus, Professor?"

"I am," James answered plainly.

"What is your animal?" Ron asked at once.

The glint was back in James's eyes. "Not telling."

Hermione looked disappointed, but asked, "Will we be learning the transformation, Professor?"

James instantly went back into "teacher mode". "I will NOT be teaching the animagus transformation," he replied slowly, accenting each no. "There will NOT be a sign-up sheet in the top left-hand drawer of my desk at the end of class. There will NOT be animagus classes starting in October."

Hermione turned around to glance meaningfully at her best friends. Ron raised an eyebrow, not getting her meaning. He looked questioningly at Harry.

Harry leaned in to whisper in his oblivious friend's ear. "She's saying we should sign up."

"But he said there wouldn't – Oh! Got it." Hermione rolled her eyes.

The next thirty minutes of the class were spent in relatively the same manner as the first, but Harry had trouble paying attention. His mind kept drifting into thinking about the animagus training and his godfather. What animal would he be? What would his godfather say if he were a stag like his father? Would he be a stag? Was his inner-animal a stag? Did your patronus reflect your inner-animal?

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a hesitant knock on the classroom door.

"Yes?" James called. "Who is it?"

A Hufflepuff third year, who Harry recognized only by sight, opened the door. "Professor? Professor Deere told me to tell you that the twins have escaped and it's your turn to find them."

"Thank you. Please tell my wife that I'll get them." He waited until the Hufflepuff had closed the door again before James turned back to his class. "Twenty points to the house that finds the little rascals."

Hermione looked scandalized; Harry, on the other hand, looked down at his shoes. He raised his hand after a moment's contemplation and before Hermione could interrupt. "Professor Paxton? I think I might know how to find them."

James looked surprised and Harry had to wonder if he'd just been making a joke. "Well, Ha--Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned to Hermione and whispered quickly, "Summoning charms don't work on people, right?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Why?"

Harry ignored her in favor of standing up and saying clearly, "_Accio _my shoelaces!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open comically and Ron looked at his best friend before bursting out laughing. Everyone else, including James, stood confused.

A minute later they all heard two shrieking five-year olds and Padma Patil flung the door open just in time. The twins crashed into Harry, knocking him down with a strangled "Oomph!"

"Again! Again!" Daisy ordered from on top of Harry's chest.

"Yes, again!" Mary agreed, her voice a little muffled as her head was nuzzled into Harry's cloak.

"Little help here," Harry breathed, spitting out Daisy's hair. He realized how red the twins' hair was. It was a rich shade of auburn, not unlike the color he'd always heard his mother's had been. Then the hair was out of his face and he forgot where that thought had been going.

"You okay?" Ron asked, pulling his best friend to his feet.

"Yeah," Harry panted. "Guess I didn't think that through, huh?"

"Of course not, Harry! Think about what could have happened if something or someone had been in their way? They would have run straight through!" Hermione cried, handing James Mary, who she'd pulled off Harry while he was getting Daisy. "You could have wrenched their arms out!"

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, "They're fine."

"Yes, Miss Granger," James agreed. "In fact, I do believe they enjoyed the ride." Everyone looked at the twins, who were happily playing with the shoelaces tied to their wrists like bracelets. "What I would like to know is: how did you know they would have your laces?"

Harry blushed and was about to answer when the bell suddenly rang, making him jump.

"Alright, time's up!" James said, "Homework is read the first chapter of your book. You'll be answering pop questions next class, so actually read!" he added as everyone gathered their things. "Oh and, twenty points to Gryffindor!"

* * *

**A/N: I've said this before, but I wanted to reiterate. If you are going to alert DEERE FAMILY, please review. It doesn't have to be long, but my sister and I have this running competition for who can get the most reviews. So far she's winning by about fifty. Help the underdog?**


	9. Memories

**A/N: It's official, I'm done with the AP exams! I'm so happy. So that you can share in my good fortune, here's the next chapter. **

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Chapter Eight: Memories

Paxton Deere hated full moons. They reminded him too much of when he used to be James Potter, before Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix. But mostly, they reminded him of the friends he'd lost.

James stared out the window of his office, ignoring the huge pile of essays he had to grade before Monday, and let his eyes drift toward Hagrid's hut. His mind wandered to the memory of the last full moon he'd spent in the forest.

It was two years after the twins were born and they were smack in the middle of the "terrible twos" stage. James had needed to get away from the teething, babbling, and general commotion. He'd fed the twins and put them to bed before telling Lily he was leaving for a bit. She'd asked where he was going, but he'd already apparated away.

James hadn't planned to go to Hogsmeade, but when he appeared in the disserted alley between the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes, he realized it was just where he needed. He quickly transformed into Prongs, rejoicing in the sound of the wind whistling about his antlers and the familiar smells of Hogsmeade.

He started to run. For a while, he convinced himself that he was back in school and that if he turned around, he'd see Padfoot and Moony bringing up the rear. Then he would look back and no one was there.

Somehow his four feet carried him to the clearing where the Marauders had always transformed after leaving Moony. That was where he heard it.

"_RUN!_"

Before his human consciousness could comprehend the sound, his deer instincts recognized the voice and charged towards it. He galloped through the underbrush, his ears straining to hear more. He heard a sharp whimper and a familiar snarl.

Prongs stuttered to a stop just inside the forest. He saw two of his pack fighting and once again, his animagus's instincts kicked in. He stamped his right-front hoof on the ground, hard.

The werewolf looked up, startled, to see Prongs, his antlers bowed threateningly, asserting his authority as leader of the pack. Prongs saw the recognition in the wolf's eyes and used it to his advantage.

He bucked his head, ordering Moony closer. Moony obeyed instantly, howling hello in greeting.

Prongs started to run, to draw Moony away from his fawn and wounded brother; Moony followed, clearly delighted to have his leader back.

Prongs led the werewolf back into the Forbidden Forest. When Prongs finally stopped in a small clearing, Moony butted against the deer and nipped him in the rear. Prongs recognized the movement as friendly and rubbed his head against the wolf's course fur. Then the moment was gone and Moony begged Prongs to play with him. And play with him, he did.

For those few hours, it was like no time had passed. But all too soon, the bright smell of dawn broke their fun. Moony started to shake as he transformed back into Remus Lupin, and Prongs knew it was time.

The stag waited until Remus was back before he left. He rubbed his head once more against his best friend, saying a silent goodbye and wishing he didn't have to leave before transforming back into James and apparating away.

OOOOO

James had often wondered, as he did now, whether Remus remembered that night. His memory was the only thing that had kept him sane. He knew without it, he wouldn't have been able to hide. The hope that Padfoot and Prongs would once again tame Moony was his only conciliation when he introduced himself to his friends as Paxton Deere, and the only thing that kept the lie going every time he saw Sirius. He'd just never expected one of them to die without knowing Prongs lived.

"Professor Paxton?"

James jumped guilty and ran his hand through his hair. "Yes?"

A Ravenclaw third-year walked hesitantly into James's office. "Do you have a moment? I'm not sure I understand the premise of the snuff-box transformation."

James straightened his stack of essays and mentally slapped himself to clear his mind. He surreptitiously rubbed his eyes clear off the half-spilt tears. "Of course, come in!"

OOOOO

While James was reminiscing in his office, another Potter was also deep in thought. That day had been the Gryffindor Quiddich tryouts, but Harry's new team wasn't forefront in his mind.

The tryouts for the chasers had gone well and Harry had started to feel good about himself. In fact, up until a beater-hopeful smashed a bludger into his nose, Harry had been having a very good day.

The bludger had broken his nose cleanly and it started gushing blood almost immediately. Hermione, and much to his surprise, Neville, had come running onto the pitch to help while the poor third-year had cried her apologies over and over again and Ron had hung, shocked, in the air next to the goalposts.

Harry had closed his eyes tight and motioned for the girl to be quiet. All his Quiddich injuries and run-ins with "Duddikins" hadn't prepared him for the radiating pain of a cracked nose. It wasn't as bad as the Cruciatus, but at the moment, Harry would have put it in a close second.

"I can help!" Neville had panted.

Harry had looked at him with a look of that he'd hoped had said, "thanks but I would much prefer Madame Pomfrey." Hermione must have thought the same, because she'd started, "Neville—"

"Trust me!" Neville had begged, pointing his new, mahogany wand at Harry's nose.

Harry hadn't been able to argue with that, but that didn't mean he hadn't prayed to everything holey his trust wasn't for not.

"_Episky_!"

Harry felt his face get very cold and then burn, accompanied by a loud CRACK. And then it was over. Harry had felt his nose tentatively, holding his breath. His nose was still a little tender, but no longer broken.

"Wow, Neville!" Ron had said.

Neville had blushed and mumbled something about getting private lessons since the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries. From what Harry had been able to catch, Madame Pomfrey had been so impressed by his Herbology OWL, she'd offered to teach him healing when school resumed, but after the Ministry, she'd decided to start during the summer. Apparently she'd decided that if the Gryffindors were going to continue to get into bad situations, they might as well have someone to keep them alive until she could get to them.

Something clicked in Harry's mind. "Hermione!"

Hermione jumped guiltily at being caught watching Ron and Seamus's chess match rather than reading her Arithmancy. "Yes?"

"I need to talk to you. You too, Ron," he added excitedly.

Ron looked longingly back at his knight, who was currently dragging Seamus's rook to the side, and followed his best friends up the stairs and into the sixth year's dorm. "Well?" he asked as soon as he'd shut the door.

"What does an army have?" Harry replied.

Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly, but Ron answered without hesitation. "Soldiers, obviously, healers, and commanders."

"Right! Now what about every soldier? A good one," he added.

Hermione answered before Ron could. "Well, a good grasp of spells and strategy, loyalty to the cause and commanders, and I suppose some battlefield first-aid."

"Exactly!" Harry hadn't felt this excited in a long time. It was almost pathetic how excited he was. "Remember what Neville did today?" he led.

"Wha—?" Hermione started, but stopped when his meaning suddenly set in. She smiled then looked pensive. "Do you think he'd agree to that?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"I know he's really come out of his shell, Harry, but aren't you asking a bit much?"

"Agree to what? Who?" Ron shouted, looking between his friends in confusion.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Ronald! Harry wants Neville to teach the DA emergency first-aid."

Ron looked at Harry in surprise. "Really? The DA's back?"

"Ron! You are missing the point!" Hermione replied, exasperated.

"Then what's the point?" Ron asked, drawing himself straighter.

Harry cut in before the conversation became more of an argument than it already was. "Whether Neville will teach us."

Ron shrugged. "Why wouldn't he?"

Hermione threw her arms up in surrender. "Ronald! Teaspoon!" She left without another word.

"Mental, she is," Ron mumbled before turning back to his best male friend. "So _are_ you restarting the DA?"

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**A/N: Thank you all for the amazing amount of reviews! I mean, WOW. I got twenty on the last chapter alone. It's very gratifying and it helped me get through the six AP exams I had to take these last two weeks. Plus, I'm gaining ground over my sister. Twenty-six more (I counted) and I'll be ahead until she posts another story! So please continue to review. **


	10. Squirrelly

**A/N: Once again, I'm not going to comment on the tardiness of the chapter. I've been working on another story that just wouldn't leave me alone, but it's almost done, so I can go back to this. This will most likely be the last chapter you're going to get for a week or two as I leave for camp Sunday. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't review. I am almost out of profiles/favorites to peruse, I need a fresh supply (hence the posting now. Selfish, I know, but what can you do?). Send me a review and then favorite/alert DEERE FAMILY so that I'll have more stories to read!**

**Okay, so a wonderful reviewer, sapientia stulti, informed me that the last bit of this chapter didn't make much sense, so I've gone back and adjusted the last three paragraphs. They are the only things that changed. Hopefully now it's clearer. Sorry for the confusion. **

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Chapter Nine:

Harry didn't get a chance to talk to Neville until just before DADA the next day. He knew the shy Gryffindor usually arrived early to the class, so he left Ron and Hermione bickering over homework in the Great Hall and headed to the DADA room, hoping to run into Neville.

He was lucky; Neville was reading _Magical Medical Plants Volume III: It Gets Interesting With These! _outside the prettier Professor Deere's room. "Hey Neville," Harry began, dropping his heavy bag next to the engrossed teenager.

Neville jumped and looked around before giving Harry an embarrassed grin. "Hey Harry. Is lunch over already?"

Harry shook his head. "I just wanted to talk to you before class started."

Neville suddenly looked afraid. "Why?"

Harry took a deep breath, unsure of how to begin. "I was thinking about what you did yesterday on the pitch, and well, I was wondering if you could do anything else." He winced slightly; the words hadn't come out right.

Neville blushed. "A few." Then his face lit up a bit, "Madame Pomfrey says I'd make a good healer if I wanted."

"Really? That's great, Neville!" Harry exclaimed, glad he hadn't offended the boy with his last sentence. His face sobered. "We – well, I – was wondering if you'd be willing to teach us the basics of healing."

Neville froze. "Who's 'us'?"

Harry suddenly felt really hot under Neville's interrogative stare. "Um, the DA," he mumbled. "If I restarted it this year," he added quickly.

Neville studied the famous teen's face, looking for any sign of the punch line that had to be coming. Seeing none, he asked, "Why me? Why not you? Or Hermione? I'm sure she could do much better than I."

Harry smiled a little, he almost had him. "You're the only one Madame Pomfrey thinks has talent."

"You have talent! You're brilliant with spells!" Neville interrupted.

Harry blushed under the praise. "I doubt I could've fixed my own nose."

"Well, of course you couldn't have. It's risky to perform those sorts of spells on yourself. You could've set it wrong and you'd never know!"

"See!" Harry replied, glad to have proof. "I would never have known that! You just taught me something right now!" He pulled his best imitation of a sick puppy. "Please, Neville? Will you help?"

Neville looked around again. By this time, most of the class had arrived and were shamelessly trying to hear everything he and Harry were saying. He stared at a Hufflepuff trying to pull the DADA book out of her bulging bag, not really seeing anything. Harry was about to tell him to forget it when he finally answered. "Okay."

Harry was about to reply when the door swung open and Lily ushered them inside.

OOOOOOOOOO

Thirty minutes later, Lily was jarred out of her lecture on the finer points of the heighten-senses spell by the sound of running. She looked up to see two identical squirrels run by the open door, quickly followed by a girl she recognized as Ginny Weasley, and much to her disappointment, her husband.

"Stop those squirrels!" James cried as he dashed by.

The class sat in silent confusion as another fifth-year Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw with blonde hair ran by.

"Excuse me for a moment, students," Lily said as she went to find her husband.

"What do you think that was about?" Ron asked, breaking the few seconds of stunned silence that followed their teacher leaving.

OOOOOOOOOO

Fifteen minutes before, James had been explaining the mammal-to-mammal transformation to his fifth-year Gryffindor/Ravenclaw class.

"…Now I want you all to try it. Transform this mouse into a baby squirrel. Just remember, this spell isn't easy, so don't be disappointed if it doesn't work today. We'll be working on it for the next month."

Ginny Weasley had just started her third attempt when her friend, Luna Lovegood, accidently bumped into her elbow. Her wand was knocked off-course and was now pointed (Ginny realized a split second after she'd finished the incantation) directly at one of Professor Paxton's twins. It was too late to cancel the spell so Ginny could only watch in horror as the blue light surrounded the twin and for once, it worked. In the kid's place, sat a stunned squirrel.

Ginny only had time to process the fact that it had worked completely on her _third _attempt (And Professor Paxton had said it was really difficult!) before she saw another blue light streak by her left arm.

Turning in surprise, Ginny saw Luna's wand out, and for once, the Ravenclaw wasn't staring off into space. "What did you just do?"

Luna shrugged and put her wand behind her ear. "They can't be different species," she replied, as if it were obvious.

Ginny didn't have time to reply, as the twins suddenly decided to try out their new forms and run. It was just her luck that James also chose that second to take a break from trying to explain what one of the denser boys was doing wrong and check on his daughters.

It took him about five seconds to realize his twins weren't missing, but were in fact, the two auburn squirrels currently making a dash for the door. "Catch them!" James ordered.

And so the chase was on.

OOOOOOO

Lily came back into her classroom a few minutes later to the loud ruckus of curious students.

"Quiet!" she shouted. The room fell silent at once and she continued as if nothing had happened, giving no clue of what had just taken place in the hall.

OOOOOOOOO

Harry waited until the classroom had cleared before approaching Lily's desk. "Professor?"

Lily looked up from organizing the latest batch of essays. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. He'd been thinking about it for two weeks and he'd reached his decision. "I'm going to restart the DA."

Lily smiled instantly and produced a sheet of parchment from inside her desk. "I was hoping you'd decide to. I took the liberty of putting together a list of students advanced, or with great promise, in Defense."

Harry took the parchment hesitantly. He hadn't planned on recruiting new members. He looked at the list.

"I believe there are a few new names," Lily added, her amusement at her son's trepidation obvious in her voice.

She was right. Most of the list consisted of present DA members, but there were a couple of new ones scattered throughout. The most surprising of all was… "Malfoy?" Harry spluttered, his eyes registering his nemesis's name sandwiched between Zacharias Smith and Hannah Abbot.

Lily nodded, her eyebrows arching slightly. "He is very powerful."

"But he's a Slytherin!"

"So is Severus Snape."

"His father's Voldemort's henchman! He's probably already kissing Riddle's arse!"

All amusement evaporated from Lily's face. "Do you know that for a fact?" Harry kept his mouth shut. "I thought not. Mr. Malfoy is a formidable dueler with the potential to be a great ally or frightening enemy." Lily's tone lost some of its iciness. "Now, I must go punish my husband."

OOOOOOO

James tiptoed passed his wife's office, intent on reaching his own before she could catch him. He darted down the corridor and ducted quickly into his office, closing the door as quietly as he could. He was just breathing a sigh of relief, rejoicing in avoiding his supremely intelligent, magnificent, and no doubt, fuming, wife when –

"James Paxton Potter."

James jumped, smashing his head into the door and turned sheepishly to face the woman sitting behind his desk. "Pan!" he replied, trying (and failing) to sound innocent.

Lily just glared. "Where are the twins?"

James swallowed. "With Madame Pomfrey."

"And why are they with Madame Pomfrey?"

"Because they ran into two suits of armor."

"And why did they run into two suits of armor?"

James pretended not to know where she was leading. He'd learned long ago not to interrupt the flow. He answered slowly. "Because we were chasing them."

"Why was that?"

"Because they were running," James couldn't help saying. He got another stoic glare. "They were trying out their new shape?" James cowered.

"And that shape was?"

"Squirrels."

"Right. Now care to tell me why our girls were transformed into squirrels?"

"A couple of my fifth-years are holding out on me?" The urge for the joke was too strong; James had to say it, consequences be damned. "I was asking for kittens."

"Potter!" Lily cracked. She looked prepared to shout again, but then seemed to realize how she was addressing James and erected a swift silencing charm around the office. As soon as it was secure, she started again, calmer than before. "Potter. If you plan on sleeping on the couch instead of the shrieking shack, you might want to think of a better excuse. You have as long as it takes me to talk to Albus."

She stood up and walked to the door. "Start now," she concluded, closing the door behind her.

"If it's a good story, do I still have to sleep on the couch?" James called, sticking his head out of the door. He pulled it back in three seconds later and got to work cracking the multi-color charm his lovely wife had just cast on his skin.

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**A/N: Many thanks to the people who've reviewed and/or alert/favorited. Until next week, fair readers! **


	11. Horcrux

**A/N: I'm BAAACK! Camp was fun, but it's nice to be home. Hope you like this one. It hasn't got Harry or the twins, but it thickens the plot. Tell me what you think! **

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Chapter Ten: Horcrux

Lily knocked softly on the headmaster's door. She waited until she heard Dumbledore's cheerful, "Come in!" before opening it.

"Albus?" she asked tentatively.

"Ah, Pansy, what an excellent coincidence! I was just about to floo you." The eccentric headmaster pulled something out of his desk, taking care, Lily noted, to avoid touching it with his bare hands. "I found this yesterday in a cursed shack protected by a very strong compulsion charm that took all of my, I pride myself, considerable will-power to break, and a few nastier curses. What do you make of it?"

Lily came closer and her eyes focused on a ring. It took her less than a second to recognize it. After all, you tend to remember your murder's jewelry. "How did you find it?" she breathed, almost fearing the answer.

"I thought you might remember it," Dumbledore replied, wrapping the ring back in its cloth and silently casting a few spells Lily couldn't even begin to fathom. "Ever since the Chamber incident, I've been doing some researching."

Lily thought back to what she'd heard about her son's adventure his second year.

"The diary?" she asked after a moment's silence.

"Quite right. I believed, and my research has confirmed, that it was a horcrux."

Lily sucked in her breath. In the first war, she'd been a researcher for the Order. She'd made two hypotheses during that time. The first, that the ancient blood and love ritual would protect her son, had been proved true. The second, also apparently correct, was that Voldemort was using the darkest of dark magic to stay alive.

Then the full weight of Dumbledore's words sank in.

"He made more than one?" she confirmed, praying she was only jumping to conclusions.

"Unfortunately." The twinkle was gone from the headmaster's blue gaze.

Lily leaned back into the chair she'd fallen into sometime during the conversation. "Is it too much to hope that that ring is merely an heirloom you happened to find?"

Dumbledore smiled humorlessly and shook his head. "How much do you remember of your research?"

Lily thought about it. The memories of her life before her death were foggy and insubstantial for the most part, but she believed she could remember everything given enough time. Or if she gave her brain a little help. "A good bit, but it's buried deep," she paused, considering each word. "If Severus were to brew a recollection potion, I might be more confident, however."

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his long fingers against his lips as he contemplated his Defense professor's statement. Recollection potions were difficult at the best of times as even the tiniest miscalculation of dosage or arithmancy could drive the drinker insane by overloading his (or her) mind with inconsequential and over-detailed memories.

Legilimency was by far the safer option, but Dumbledore didn't trust his skill to be refined enough for such a precise job. In fact, the only one he did was Severus Snape, but that would risk Lily's identity, and as much as Dumbledore trusted Snape, he refused to give Voldemort another reason to kill his potions master. If only he didn't need the horcrux in the ring destroyed so soon, they would be able to wait for Lily to remember naturally!

For a second, Dumbledore contemplated just putting the ring on and fighting the sole-fragment that way, but he quickly squashed that idea. It was too risky, especially when Lily had an alternative.

So with a heavy mental sigh, Dumbledore asked, "Are you sure, Lily?"

Lily's confidence waivered slightly at his use of her real name, but nodded anyway. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

Dumbledore sighed and took a pinch of floo powder from it's home on the mantel. He threw it in the fire and waited for the flames to turn green before sticking his head into the fireplace.

OOOOOOO

Professor Severus Snape felt the cover of the potions book the Potter brat had had to borrow for the class. He opened the first page and realized at once that it wasn't the same book he'd lent Potter when he'd come into the class unprepared at the beginning of the term.

Snape had to be a little proud of the boy. He'd replaced the cover of the new textbook from Flourish and Blots with the cover of the old. Very Slytherin of him.

For the hundredth time this year, Snape wondered what had compelled him to give the boy his old textbook, let alone let that manipulating headmaster guilt him into letting Potter into his NEWT class with a measly exceeds expectations. Perhaps he'd felt sorry for Potter after the death of the mutt, but Snape doubted it. He decided to believe that he'd only done it for the good of the wizarding world. It made sense; there was little doubt in his mind that Potter would have to destroy the Dark Lord, and if getting the boy to auror training and thereby increasing the chance of the Light winning, well, Snape could spare his old potions textbook and _most _of his sanity.

The fact that he couldn't help but respect Potter after the events at the Ministry had nothing to do with it.

"Severus?"

Snape pulled his mask of indifference back on and turned to face the headmaster's head in his fire. "Professor?" He'd never gotten used to calling Dumbledore Albus and the old wizard had long since given up trying to make him.

"Would you be willing to come to my office for a moment?"

Snape covered the textbook with a few third-year essays on his desk and motioned for Dumbledore to move out of the fire so he could get through. The headmaster quickly complied and Snape stepped out of the fire into his office.

"Professor Deere," Snape acknowledged sharply, but civilly. He had no opinion about the female Deere – it was the male Professor Deere that rubbed him wrong.

"Severus," Lily replied, just as coolly. His brisk tone had hurt in the beginning, but she'd gotten used to it.

"Is there something you needed, Professor, or is this a social visit?" Snape asked after a long minute in which Lily accepted one of Dumbledore's offered lemon drops.

Dumbledore sighed and put down the tin of his favorite sweet. He decided to get right to the point. "Are you up to making a recollection potion?"

Snape hide his surprise behind another layer of cool indifference. "Who is it for?"

Lily coughed lightly and Snape's coal-like stare landed on her. She shifted a little under their intensity. "Me, Severus. I wish, well," she glanced at the headmaster for encouragement and he nodded, "the Order needs me to remember some information in greater detail and sooner than I feel I can do."

Snape stared at her for a while longer before answering. "You know of the risks?"

Lily nodded, refusing to let her insecurities show. "I do, Severus."

Snape looked down at his interlocked fingers and thought about it. He would love the challenge. He hadn't made such a complicated and potentially dangerous potion since the Dark Lord's first reign. He looked once again into the DADA professor's gaze. They seemed to be pleading.

"It will take a few weeks. I will need to know just how long it's been and how much you need." He stood up before anyone could reply. "I will begin now."

Back in his quarters, Snape poured himself a stiff drink and sank into his favorite armchair.

"Ridiculous," he scolded himself. He was being silly. Professor Pansy Deere didn't have _her _eyes…

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**A/N: Now that I've got the set up for both people, who do you think should find out about the Potters first: Snape or Lupin? Harry won't find out for a while, so don't bother choosing him. Ron and/or Hermione might be next. I have an idea how I want them to find out. Not telling, though! Once again, I want to thank those of you who reviewed. I hope you'll continue. I don't know when I'll be able to post again (I have another camp in a few days), but I really enjoy seeing how many reviews I get per chapter. Plus it makes my twin blow up like a pufferfish when she sees I've gained on her! Fun! **


	12. Interviews

**A/N: Hello! I'm back from nerd-heaven. Thank you so much, those of you who kept reading. I'm proud to say I finally broke the hundred mark! Thank you so much! **

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Chapter Eleven: Interviews

"I think we should ask a Ravenclaw," Lily said. After putting the twins to bed (and lifting the color charm on her husband), she and James were grading papers – well, Lily was; James was trying to make tea – and talking about asking a student to babysit the twins while they were in class. The squirrel incident was the latest on a long list involving the twins and the hospital wing.

"A Ravenclaw?"

James looked at the teabags the house elves had left in the small kitchen in their quarters, shrugged, and dropped four into the medium-sized teapot. "The Fawnies would drive them insane!"

Lily thought about it for a second. James had a point. The twins were too active to be controlled by logic and books. A Hufflepuff was out; they needed firm decisions and punishment when it was required, not just love and cuddles. That left Slytherin and Gryffindor. "Slytherin?"

James spit his hot (and much too strong) tea all over Lily's Hufflepuff/Slytherin first-year papers. "No Slytherin is watching my babies!"

Lily glared at him, but decided not to comment. "Do you know any responsible Gryffindors?"

OOOOO

"Ronald," Hermione gasped.

"Wha'?" The lanky redhead swallowed the last of his humongous mouthful of pancake. "We are talking about Malfoy!"

"Shh!" Harry ordered, glancing surreptitiously around the Great Hall. Luckily no one was really paying much attention to the trio for once. The boy in question was talking to Theodore Nott at his table. He turned back to his best friends. "Professor Deere made a good point. We need him."

"Need him! He's a Slytherin."

"Really, Ronald, if you can't think of a better reason, you shouldn't be saying it," Hermione shot back.

"What does that even mean?" Ron replied just as quickly.

Harry cut in before it could get any worse. "Look, I've already made my decision. We need him, Slytherin or not. For all we know, he doesn't agree with his father or Voldemort."

Ron flinched at the name. "But how can we trust him?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, no doubt with a sharp reprimand, but Harry beat her to it. Ignoring the question, he said, "I have to go. I'll see you in Charms."

Ron and Hermione watched their best friend walk out of the hall in silence before Hermione turned to Ron. "See, he just wanted our advice!"

"And I gave it!" Ron replied.

"He wanted you to agree with him!"

"Mr. Weasley?"

Both sixth years jumped guiltily. "Yes, Professor?" Ron answered, timidly.

James ran his fingers through his hair and then rubbed his eyes. No matter how many cushioning charms he cast on the couch, it always hurt in the morning. If only Lily would let him transfigure it into a bed. Or even better, let him into _their_ bed. "Professor Deere," he stumbled over his wife's title, it was just so strange thinking of his book-loving wife teaching, "and I were wondering if you could meet us after your last class tonight in our quarters. Around six?"

Hermione noticed Ron's ears were flushing. She didn't blame him. She would hate to be called out like that, but Ron seemed to be keeping his composure.

"Of course, sir. I mean, yes," Ron stumbled. Okay, so not all of it.

James grinned as much as he could given the time and the really bad muscle cramp from being bent like a taco on the couch. He seemed to notice Ron's nerves because he added, "Don't worry. You aren't in trouble."

He left Ron and Hermione to question his family's motives in favor of the large pot of coffee the house elves had the wonderful foresight to put right next to his plate at the head table.

Meanwhile, outside of the Hall, Harry was waiting for a certain blonde wizard. He didn't have to wait long. Around the time James was talking to Ron, Draco Malfoy strode out of the Great Hall, flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle, the human stones.

"Well, look who it is: Pothead!" Draco said as soon as he noticed Harry leaning against the wall. "Waiting for your pack, Potter?"

Harry was surprised (and a little relieved) to see that while the words were the same, the expression behind them had changed. Oh, Malfoy was still sporting the mask of pride Harry knew all too well, but something was different.

It was the first time Harry had really been able to get a good look at the blond all year and it wasn't the same face he remembered.

This Malfoy looked thinner and more like Sirius had when he'd first appeared in the Shrieking Shack. He had dark circles under his eyes that were barely hidden from the passing glance. His hair wasn't slicked back as neatly and there was a distinct lack of confidence in his stride. Malfoy had changed.

Harry swallowed. "No actually. For you."

An expression of something that greatly resembled shock (and was that fear?) flashed through Draco's face. "Why?" he asked, the sarcasm noticeably absent.

Harry took a deep breath. "I need to talk to you," he glanced at the hulking gargoyles behind the wizard and added, "alone."

Draco couldn't suppress his curiosity. He turned to his bodyguards. "Go get some more food," he ordered.

Crabbe looked curious, but Goyle seemed pleased. They ducked back into the Great Hall.

Draco waited until they were safely on their way back to stuffing their faces before saying, "So what did you want, Potter?"

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

Draco thought about it. Did he trust Potter not to curse him without others around? It seemed like the Slytherin thing to do. But surely Potter was too Gryffindor for that. Did he just call Potter Slytherin? "Fine."

Harry led the other wizard into an empty classroom down the corridor. As soon as Draco was in, he cast the strongest anti-spying charms he knew – glad once again for the books on advanced defense his godfather and Remus had bought him for Christmas last year.

Draco reached for his wand when he saw Harry pull out his, but relaxed slightly when he realized what he was doing. He kept his hand on it, though.

Harry spoke first. "What do you believe, Malfoy?"

Draco was taken aback. He didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth, and then to his disgust, closed it again. Harry noticed.

"How about an easier question, then? Do you think you could disobey your father?"

Draco's eyes flicked involuntarily to his left forearm. He wasn't sure the new question was any easier than the old.

OOOOO

Ron suddenly wished he'd asked Professor Paxton if Harry or Hermione could come along. It was taking all his Gryffindor courage not to run like a garden gnome after sunset back to the tower.

The portrait guarding the Deere's rooms was a shrewd griffin that didn't seem to like people. "I'm, um, here to see, um," Ron stuttered.

The griffin rolled his eyes. "They told me to expect a pipsqueak. I must say, I was expecting more of a—" He was interrupted by Professor Deere swinging him into the wall.

"Come in, Mr. Weasley. Forgive Garnish, he's had a bad couple of centuries." Lily waved Ron through the portrait hole in a much lighter tone than she usually addressed her students.

Ron was surprised and pleased by the décor. The sitting room the portrait opened to was decorated in a bright, cheerful red accented with gold and silver, leaving very little question in Ron's mind which house one or both of the Deeres had been in. He was a little surprised by how Gryffindor it really was. If anyone had asked him before, he would have said Professor Deere made sure Professor Paxton wasn't associated with any house. He supposed she didn't mind as much when they were alone.

Lily gestured for him to sit on the lumpy, but Ron assumed, comfortable couch and sat down on the armchair opposite. "Would you like some tea? Paxton should be back in a minute or two. The twins somehow managed to escape Albus's office again," she explained.

"Um, yeah, sure," Ron replied, still nervous despite the welcoming atmosphere.

"Milk? Sugar?" Lily asked, seemingly content to serve the tea in the semi-awkward silence.

"Um, sugar. Two, please, Professor."

Lily's smile was much warmer than the one she used in class as she handed Ron his tea. Ron nodded his thanks and took a louder gulp than he'd meant to. Contrary to what Hermione always said and thought, Ron had manners, he just never saw the need to use them around friends. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure where the Deeres fell and consequently his brain couldn't decided if it wanted his actions to be loud or quiet.

Thankfully, the abrupt appearance of the rest of the Deere clan saved Ron from further embarrassment.

"Mummy, Daddy says we can't go to the bathroom!" one of the twins called as she climbed through the hole. Ron wasn't sure which it was.

"Paxton!" Lily reprimanded. "Why would you say such a thing?"

James looked affronted. "I didn't. What I said was they couldn't go running into the boys' bathroom and climbing on the window sills," he explained, catching Mary before she could steal his wand out of the holster inside his robe.

Ron wasn't sure how he was supposed to act, but he had a feeling snorting loudly wasn't right as soon as both professors spun around to look at him. His ears went Gryffindor red. Again.

Then James laughed too. Until his wife shot him a death-glare.

Lily turned her back on both wizards in the room to address her twins. "You can go into the girls' bathroom whenever you need, as long as you tell Mummy or Daddy or an adult, okay?" she said.

The twins looked at each other and in a perfect expression of angelic innocence Ron recognized from the many times he'd seen it on Fred and George, said, "We're sorry we didn't tell Grandpa Albus we were going."

Ron had to be impressed. They had their parents in the palm of their hands. They could give Fred and George a run for their money in that department, hands down.

Then the adult Deeres remembered Ron. "Now that we are all here, we have some things to discuss. Will you please get the twins settled so that we may begin?" Lily commanded.

James looked at his daughters. "Come on, Fawnies, Mummy and Daddy need to have private time." He started steering the twins toward their room.

"Are you going to have to close the door?" Ron heard one of them ask. Both he and Lily blushed slightly and from the forced laughter that followed the girl's statement, so had James.

It was a few more minutes before James re-appeared. "Finally got them down!" he exclaimed, leaning into his wife's cheek for a kiss.

"What did you say to them?" Lily inquired as he sat down on the couch next to a very confused and now downright terrified Ron.

James pretended that he hadn't heard her question, instead turning to Ron. "So, Mr. Weasley, has my beautiful wife told you why you're here?"

Ron coughed and put down his cup of cold tea. "Not yet."

"We were waiting for you, love," Lily answered.

"'Course. Sorry it took so long," James apologized. "Do you want to tell him, Pan, or should I?"

"You can."

Ron was getting very tired of the preamble. His mind kept flashing through everything he'd done in the last few weeks and nothing was coming up. How badly had he screwed up? He should have listened to Hermione when she said his essay on nonverbal offense was too scrambled.

"Um, right. So Ron – may we call you Ron? – do you like kids?" James began.

Ron was even more confused. Had he written something bad in the essay about transfiguring eyebrows? "I've got nothing against them."

"Excellent. What about pranks?"

Ron shrugged. "When you've grown up with a pair of pranksters like my older brothers, you have to or die."

James couldn't help but let out a little snort of laughter that he tried to cover up as a cough. Lily swatted him on the arm and he quickly sobered. "Of course. And what are you taking this year besides transfiguration and defense?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Charms and herbology."

"That's not too bad, right?"

Ron shrugged again. "It's easier than Harry's. He's got potions too. I'm glad I could finally drop the-" he broke off before he could finish the sentence. "Yeah, it's okay."

Lily, tired of her husband's delay, took over. "We were wondering if you would be able to watch the twins while we're teaching. When you're not in class, of course. Poppy or one of the other teachers can watch them while you are in class, but we can't ask them to give up their private time."

Ron was stunned. Of all the reasons his brain and best friends had been making up for the invitation, a job interview had not been one of them. He didn't know what to say.

"We'll pay you fifteen sickles an hour and the right to turn in essays and the like,"

"From just our classes, mind," Lily spoke over her husband.

"—a day later than the due date," James continued. They'd decided it was only fair considering how time-consuming their daughters were.

"You could drop them off after either my or Paxton's last class of the day."

Ron thought about it. Homework extensions AND pocket money? "Sure," he smiled. Then something struck him. "But why me? Why not Harry or Hermione or one of the other sixth years?"

Lily laughed. "We thought you could handle them the best. You said it yourself, you grew up with two of Hogwarts' most notorious pranksters, you won't be surprised or intimidated by two five year-olds."

"And you are smart enough to not be consumed by so much homework," James interjected, earning himself another swat and glare from his wife.

"I must admit, Ms. Granger was a possibility, but she has so much on her plate already and Mr. Potter has the DA to run. You are by far the most capable person for the job."

Ron was very flattered. He'd always felt like he was the lesser of the trio and the useless brother, but to hear that he was chosen over Harry and Hermione was a much needed ego boost. Sure, they might be smarter or better leaders, but he, Ronald Weasley, was the person the teachers went to in a jam like this. Take that Percy! He couldn't keep his smile in.

"When do I start?"

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**A/N: Now that you've read the chapter, I can say this: The person who submits the 125 review gets to say what the twins will do under Ron's watch at some point down the line. It doesn't have to be a prank (they're only five, remember) but it does have to be mischievous. If for some reason, the 125 doesn't want to participate, the 124 will have the chance, and so forth. Oh and Lupin won by a far margin. I've written the scene already, but for those brave few who wanted Snape, I've written his revelation as well. No telling though!**


	13. One Part I

**A/N: This is one of the shortest chapters you will (probably) ever get because it is only half. The last line was too good a conclusion for me to add it to the next chapter. I'll also say this: no new chapter until I get reviews! I'll take anyone's suggestion of a prank from the twins (I'm out of ideas and I need them soon!), but the 125th reviewer's idea will be used, no matter what - see last chapter's author's note for clarification. The others will be screened. Deal? **

* * *

Chapter Twelve: One (Part I)

They trickled in slowly at first, then faster, in tight groups as if afraid of the room behind the door that magically appeared from a small strip of wall at a simple need. The returning members were silent, only speaking to reassure the new that this was it and that it would start soon.

And then the last three members arrived and all hell broke loose.

"Slytherins!" Zacharias Smith exclaimed as soon as Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zambini, and Bertha Matlock (a Slytherin fourth-year who Harry only recognized by sight) strode into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Dean Thomas shouted almost at the same time.

"This isn't a Death Eater meeting!"

"Yeah, get out!"

The exclamations blended together like a sort of hate-stew that made Harry suddenly want to vomit. All at once, it clicked, and the realization hit him like a punch in the gonads. For the first time since he'd destroyed Professor Dumbledore's office after Sirius's death, Harry saw red.

"SHUT UP!" he roared, startling the mob and the Slytherins who were trying to ignore the threats and find a seat. Everyone shut up.

"They are here for the same reason you are," Harry continued, his voice considerably more controlled. "I invited them just as I did you. They are your allies, if not your friends." Someone who sounded very much like Smith snorted and Harry whipped his head around to glare menacingly at him before continuing.

"If you are too prejudice to see beyond the color of their dorms, get out now because no matter how you look at it, we have something in common.

"Everyone look at your robes. Look at your house badge." Everyone, even the stoic-faced Slytherins, followed Harry's orders and looked at the pocket of their uniform. "What do you see?"

He answered the rhetorical question after a second of pulsating silence. "You see your house mascot, right?" A few people nodded and Harry went on. "But what else is there? Forget about the damn animals for once!" Harry shouted suddenly, his barely contained anger flaring up again at the sight of Seamus Finnegan looking confused. "Do you see it now, Seamus? Smith? Corner?" he called. "Do you see the crest? Hogwarts' crest? That is our house.

"We are the DA, Hogwarts' army. Even if we don't all agree with Professor Dumbledore, we are all willing to fight for the safety of our home, are we not?" Ashamed nods followed his moment of silence. "Good. Now if I ever hear that you've forgotten what's behind the ruddy mascot, I'll show you why parselmouths have been feared for centuries."

Hermione yanked her eyes from her best friend to look about the room. It seemed like he'd already showed them. Power, pure and simple yet terrifyingly complicated, was pouring off him in almost visible and definitely palpable waves. Suddenly she knew why Voldemort feared the Boy-Who-Lived, and in that moment, sandwiched between anger and conviction, Hermione saw her best friend come into his destiny. Her eyes grew wide in shock and pride.

Harry speaking again, this time in a much softer tone, broke the silence that followed his threat. "You can bicker and curse each other all you want outside of the meetings, but the moment you step through that door," he gestured to the innocent door leading out into the corridor, "it all stops. Got it?"

As the crowd nodded their consent, another wave of power swept through the school, sending a shiver of excitement and peace down the spines of all the inhabitances. Up in a certain circular office, a particular hat stretched its brim into the curved shape of a smile and a flame-plumed phoenix sang its pleasure.

Hogwarts was mending for the first time in almost a thousand years.

* * *

**A/N: Remember lovely people, I need prank ideas. Write them in a review or send me a PM. Even if you don't have an idea, you know writers love comments! **


	14. One Part II

**A/N: I hadn't meant to keep you all waiting so long, but I've been kind of overwhelmed by an influx of one-shots for the new Covert Affairs fandom. Thank you to everyone who suggested pranking ideas. Unfortunately, my 125th reviewer did not submit an idea, so I'll have to do a guaranteed-in again. I'll set it at the 145th review. Remember, the rule is that it has to be something that the Potter twins can do. I'm not that worried about full-out pranks for the others - they will have very little time for marauding, as you'll find out. Now, here's the long-awaited second half of the first official DA meeting. **

Previously:_Hogwarts was mending for the first time in almost a thousand years. _

Chapter Twelve: One (Part II)

"Now that that's out of the way," Harry began again. His ashamed audience snapped back into attention. "Let's get on with it. Welcome to the DA. As I said before, this – we – are Hogwarts' army. You have all been asked to attend because of your aptitude to defense and dedication to the cause."

Harry swallowed, the adrenaline from his angry rant wearing off as his natural stage fright kicked in. He looked around at the thirty-something people listening to him and tried to clear his mind. As usual, it wasn't working. He took another deep breath and continued.

"A few more things before we all go to bed. First let me say I am really proud of you all," he made sure to glance at Neville, "Professor Deere told me she could tell exactly who was in the DA last year," he paused, "but that's not enough."

Those who'd been smiling and patting each other on the back froze. Surely they weren't going to be kicked out now?

Harry ignored them; pressing on like nothing had stirred his classmates. "This year we will do more than defense. There is a war going on outside our home and Voldemort," he rolled his eyes as everyone flinched, "attacking is no longer a possibility. It _will _happen, people! So this year we will not only be learning practical defense, but also battlefield first-aid magic. Yes, Ginny?"

Ginny put her hand down. "How? Will Madame Pomfrey be teaching us?"

"No. Once again, we are a student-run group, but Hermione will get into that later," Harry replied, glancing at Hermione for conformation.

"So who'll be teaching?" Bertha Matlock asked.

"Harry, duh!" Ernie McMillian answered before anyone else could.

"Actually, I won't," Harry replied, nonchalantly. Immediately, the volume of the room hit the roof. Only Ron, Hermione, and Neville remained silent. Neville, though, appeared to be trying to disappear as the Room of Requirement had erected an opaque screen around his cushion. "Let me finish!" Harry shouted over the noise.

He had to wait a few more seconds for all the chatter to quiet down enough for him to continue. "If you'd let me finish, I would have been able to clarify. I will be instructing the defensive part, 'kay? But Madame Pomfrey's student will be doing the first-aid magic, deal?"

"Who's the student?" Cho Chang asked before Harry could elaborate.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry replied. The screen around Neville went transparent as Harry asked the Room to show him.

The room went quieter than a graveyard at night. Then Hermione started to clap. The other Gryffindors, including Harry, joined and soon everyone was. Neville looked like he had back in the leaving feast of their first year when his last-minute ten points won Gryffindor the house cup. But then he'd remained frozen on his seat, today he stood up and Harry sat down as if they'd planned it.

"Um, hi. Thanks," he started. "Um, look, I know I'm not Harry, so I, err, know what you're thinking," he glanced at Draco, "but I'll, um, do my best to teach you everything Madame Pomfrey is, um, teaching me." Neville sat back down, his face a bright Weasley-red, to another short round of applause.

Harry signaled to Hermione that it was her turn. She nodded and took a deep breath. She was proud to notice that she wasn't blushing as much as she had last year while addressing the first DA meeting in the Hog's Head.

"Right, well, Harry brought this up before, but he wanted me to explain, so yeah," Hermione rambled. She stopped to calm herself down before continuing. "We – Harry, Ron, and I – talked about it and we have decided that we don't want teachers to interfere. We– "

"Why didn't we get a say in it? Who made you three boss?" Smith called.

"Well, we–"

"If you want, we can have a vote AFTER Hermione finishes explaining," Ginny growled at the Hufflepuff behind her.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione acknowledged.

"Anytime, 'Mione," Ginny interrupted.

"So we came to the conclusion that because we might be learning some, uh, _dangerous_ spells, they might want to stop us. But we need to learn it, right?" There were scattered nods around the room, and they gave Hermione more confidence. "We need to do the unexpected if we have any hope of beating Voldemort – oh get over it – and if we invite guests, how can we be unexpected?

"For the same reason, we _propose_," she accented the word to cover her bases, "that we continue to keep these meetings secret. Agreed?"

"All those who agree with us, raise your hands!" Ron called, when no one answered. Ginny stood up to count the hands.

"Oi, Smith! Your hand up or not?" Ron shouted.

Smith replied by raising his hand above the Creevey brothers.

"Right. It's unanimous," Ginny said. "Looks like we're still underground, Hermione."

"Good. Thank you. Now that is settled, who still has your gallon from last year?" All the returning members raised their hands and looked around to see who hadn't. "Excellent. Harry, would you please pass me the basket behind you. Great, thanks." She held up the basket. "For those new members, these are how you will know when the next meeting is. Harry changes the numbers on his coin to the date and time and yours changes to match. It will grow warm to tell it has been set."

Hermione dropped the gallon she'd been using as a prop back into the basket and handed it to Luna Lovegood for her to pass around.

Once again, Harry stood up. "Any questions before we get out of here?"

"What about Quiddich practices?" Terry Boot, the new Ravenclaw captain asked.

Harry nodded slowly. "I'll do my best to schedule meetings around practice. If you want, you can give me your schedule, Terry, but because I'm juggling all four teams," he glanced at Malfoy who nodded, "you'll have to choose once in a while. Gryffindors, we'll be sacrificing Quiddich. Sorry guys, but this is more important," he added quickly at the groans issuing from his team.

Ron and Ginny both looked flabbergasted, but Katie Bell just shrugged.

"Other captains, you choose. Anything else?"

~OOOOO~

Fifteen minutes later, the Room of Requirement was almost empty. Harry was just about to leave, having stayed to search for a book Lupin had suggested, when someone knocked on the door. Curious, he opened it.

"Malfoy?"

Draco pushed his past Harry into the room. Harry closed the door.

"Something you need?"

Draco started pacing. Harry had never seen the Malfoy heir look so un-composed, and he had to admit it was unsettling. They stared at each other for a while before Draco broke it and spoke.

"Thank you, Potter."

Harry's mouth went slack. Had Professor Snape danced naked in front of him singing "Cucaracha!", he wouldn't have been more surprised. "Um…"

"I have to go."

With that, Harry was once again alone.

**A/N: Remember, the 145th reviewer gets to pull a prank on someone. I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm planning on posting the next chapter tomorrow, but as I've written seven more chapters, it shouldn't be too too long. I've fleshed out the telling Remus and Snape knowing chapters, and I have to say, they're good (at least Remus' is). A few people have asked when Harry will find out. Well, I've planned it around Christmas. I've written part of his reaction, and yes, it is a blow-up. **


	15. Animagi?

**A/N: I won't waste yours or my time explaining why it's been what, nearly six months?, since I last posted. I have no excuse beyond laziness and a lack of inspiration. But as I told the 145th review and a good friend, Ptronille, I won't abandon this story. If it takes me 'till I graduate college, I'll finish this story! I was going to hold off for another month and post this chapter on the one-year anniversary of the posting of the prologue, but a PM from a particular reader, GinnyPotter4evr, convinced me that it was time. So here it is, the chapter that I know I've been looking forward to for a while. Reviews, like tips, help "to insure prompt service" (as in, review and it might not be another eon before chapter fourteen, PSYCHOANALYSIS).**

Chapter Thirteen: Animagi?

"What are you doing here?" Ron said as soon as he walked in to the transfiguration classroom three days after the meeting for the first animagus lesson of the year.

Ginny Weasley looked affronted. "Why shouldn't I be? I can be an animagus!"

"I didn't realize Professor Paxton was opening them to fifth years," Hermione commented, dumping her crammed book bag on a desk with a relieved expression.

"He didn't. Why did you bring your stuff?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow as if to say, "I was in the library, of course" while Harry scanned the room looking for the professor.

"So how are you here?" he asked distractedly. He was anxious to begin.

"This is their punishment for turning my daughters into squirrels and getting me stuck on the couch for three nights." James had appeared, looking a little disheveled. "Ron, the twins want to know what time you and Harry have to go to bed. Seven thirty, so you know." He turned just in time to see Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini walk into the room.

"Seeing a lot of him around, aren't we?" Ron whispered to Harry. "Which one of us is slipping?"

Ten minutes later, everyone had arrived and the class began.

"Welcome students, felons." James grinned at Luna and Ginny. "Great choice, taking this course. I'm actually surprised so few of you are here," he added, scanning the small group in front of him.

There were three Ravenclaws not including Luna, a sixth year, and two seventh years who looked interested in the theory, but the sixth year (Rebecca Beelson) looked positively terrified at the thought of changing into an animal. James would bet five days on the lumpy couch that none of them would be able to make the change.

The two Hufflepuffs in his seventh year NEWT class seemed more like animagus material. His eyes skimmed over Luna and Ginny, he knew they were future animagi, and focused on the only two Slytherins in the room.

James recognized the look on Blaise's face. It was the same expression Remus always wore when he and Sirius tricked him into pulling a prank with them. Obviously Blaise hadn't planned on showing up. That didn't bode well for his chances. Draco looked promising, however.

The four remaining Gryffindors, with perhaps the exception of Neville, seemed to be toss-ins.

Overall, a good catch.

"Today we are going to make sure you can all change. If you don't have a strong inner-animal, you can either leave or follow along with the theory, okay? Excellent. Ready to meet your animal?"

Hermione looked ready to jump out of her seat with excitement while Beelson went a sickly color green. James had to wonder what in the world she was doing here. Ravenclaws were a nutty bunch.

"There are two ways to find your inner-animal. Anyone know what they are?" Hermione's hand was in the air before anyone else could comprehend the question.

"The Aniraligrus potion, also know as the Animalistic potion," Hermione gushed, "will temporarily give you the identifying characteristics, both physical and psychological. It is considered beyond NEWT level because of the dangers if not brewed correctly. The second is more common, but less informative, the Intrabeastic-Revelio spell, rated at NEWT. It will show the caster a faint projection with only the simple physical attributes clearly visible."

The room was quiet for a couple of seconds, Harry because he hadn't heard Hermione's swallowed-the-textbook voice in public since somewhere around third year, the Ravenclaws in respect. Harry was willing to bet that they had only done some cursory reading. Ron seemed to be between grinning and revelry at his best friend's memory.

James didn't seem very surprised. The grin on his face flashed again. "Well done, Hermione. Fifteen points to Gryffindor. Now I don't know about you all, but I'm abysmal at potions." Draco's scoff was cut short by a threatening glare from both Harry and Ron. James hadn't seemed to notice. "So we will be doing the spell Miss Granger was so good as to tell us about. Yes, Mr. Simpson?"

The seventh year Hufflepuff put down his hand. He spoke with a strong Scottish accent. "What if we can't do the spell? Will _Expecto Patronum _tell us our shapes? If we have one," he added as an afterthought.

Harry's eyes snapped to James. Was his patronus his shape? Would he be Prongs like his father?

James perched himself on the corner of his desk. "Don't worry about the spell. If you don't get it before the end of class today, you can come to me anytime to practice. As for whether your patronus is your animal, not always."

"Why is that?" Harry broke in.

James glanced at his son. "A patronus is a protector, and therefore an embodiment of someone or something of a guardian, tailored to the caster. That's why more people can cast a patronus than can turn into animals. An animagus form, on the other hand, is a," he paused and rubbed his mouth, searching for the right words, "a personality.

"That's not to say some people have less of a personality than others," James clarified before Hermione could ask the question that Harry could see itching to come out. "Just that those with a shape are more set. At least that's the general consensus among transfiguration masters. There can be a hundred reasons why someone doesn't have an inner-animal, but the most common one is that he or she is mixed to the point that no animal really fits. The fit has to be perfect—give or take a few traits.

"I read once that only one in five wizards have a shape, so don't take it too hard, alright? Does that answer your question, Mr. Simpson? Mr. Potter?" Both of them nodded and Harry had to suppress a small smile at the obviously relieved expression that flashed across James' face before the usual relaxed humor could reappear.

"How will we know?" Patsy Campbell, one of the seventh year Ravenclaws asked before James could continue.

"Your spell. A strong inner-animal will appear semi-well defined, enough for you to know the species. If you are more mixed, you will only see the vaguest shape of the animal you most clearly match. You won't be able to make out the species, but you might be able to tell if it's a mammal or something. Anything else?" Everyone looked at each other, but no one spoke.

James waited another thirty seconds before hopping energetically off his desk. "Everyone up!" he ordered. Everyone sprang up from his or her desks without question. The last person who had hesitated in Professor Paxton's class had walked around with green hair for a couple of hours (or so the rumors went).

The transfigurations professor twitched his wand and all the desks turned into cushions that reminded Harry strongly of the Divination room. Another flick and the extra cushions were banished to the corners.

"No point in us being uncomfortable," James explained. "Pull up a pillow."

Everyone shuffled toward the twelve cushions arranged in a circle on the floor. Ron started to head to the biggest, but Hermione grabbed his arm and gave him a don't-even-think-about-it-Ronald look. He grinned sheepishly in reply before sitting down on the pillow to the right of Harry.

"The spell is _Intralbeales Revelio_. Pronounce it correctly or something nasty might happen." James' eyes sparkled as Beelson gulped and everyone shared nervous looks. "But that's only half the battle. You have to really _think _about yourself. I don't mean your looks," James glanced at Draco's almost impeccable appearance, "but more like the memories you think define you. This part of the spell is why it's rated NEWT level. Like the patronus charm, it uses the memories you've focused to shape your basic instincts, and thereby qualify your personality."

"So you _can _choose your form?" Neville spoke for the first time. His expression was determined and yet still confused.

James shook his head. "That's the brilliant thing about it. Intralbealistic-Revelio doesn't care about the memories themselves, but rather the reasons behind _why _you chose _them _specifically." James was looking at Harry now, some part of him willing his son to pay attention to his next words. "After all, the reasons behind actions make all the difference."

Harry shifted under James' brown stare and James returned to his senses.

"So it psychoanalyzes us?" Campbell interrupted.

James cocked his head slightly. "What?"

Campbell opened her mouth to explain, but Hermione jumped in first. "It is a muggle term. A muggle psychologist named Sigmund Freud tried to help his patients by interpreting their actions and/or responses to his questions. Among other things," she added timidly, suddenly embarrassed for interrupting Campbell.

James looked thoughtful. He answered slowly, "I suppose you could say that then."

"It's going to tell us we have mummy-issues?" Andy Russell, the other Hufflepuff and a muggle-born shot out.

Harry tried very hard to keep his snort of amusement inside, but only Hermione really managed to. Even the Slytherins cracked an, albeit very quick, smile. Ron, however, just looked confused.

"What has that got to do with your animagus form?" he asked.

All the muggle-borns and half-bloods raised in the muggle world shared surreptitious amusement, but only the ever-serious textbook, also known as Hermione, answered.

"Sigmund Freud is most famous for his theory that everything boils down to unfulfilled sexual needs or aggression, usually towards a parent or person of authority."

"That is ridiculous!" Draco cried, quite un-Malfoyishly, Harry noted.

"Well, yes, that is why most regard psychoanalysis as soft. Today it is all mostly done through the NeoFreudians."

"What's that?" Beelson asked. She looked a little less afraid now.

Hermione opened her mouth, but closed it with a sharp snap when James said, "As interesting as that is, we must press on. In answer to your question, Mr. Russell, no, the spell doesn't care if you want sex or something with your mother."

James waited until the room settled down again. He looked at his watch. "Take out your wand and try to cast the spell. Don't think of your memories until the spell is cast. You'll know when you've done it," he answered the unasked question.

They all looked surprised to be asked to perform the spell so quickly, especially Rebecca Beelson, but everyone did as their professor ordered.

Hermione was the first person to get it, not much of a surprised to anyone. She exhaled loudly, but slowly, and her eyes closed. Everyone stopped mumbling the incantation to watch.

Nothing happened for almost three minutes and then Hermione opened her eyes and stared straight ahead like a girl possessed, excitement decorating an otherwise blank face. At first no one noticed the glimmering in front of Hermione, but then Ginny squeaked in surprise and everyone saw it.

A form was molding out of silvery mist. It shimmered as a tail formed behind four legs and sharp ears grew out of a long head. The shape paced for a moment, showing its power. A slow minute later, as smoothly as it had come, the wolf disappeared.

OOOOOOO

Draco Malfoy was next. His face wasn't as tranquil as Hermione's had been. It was stronger and it looked like he was struggling before he suddenly relaxed. A moment later, his eyes were open and once again, a silvery fog formed into a dancing creature. A snake with a diamond head slithered around Draco's head, its strong muscles pumping without visible effort.

Almost before the snake faded, Patsy Campbell went into the meditative state. She didn't stay there as long as Draco or Hermione, and when she broke from the trance, only swirling light met her disappointed gaze. It writhed in the air for a long time before fading in defeat, but no one noticed. They were too busy watching the Boy-Who-Lived.


	16. Psychoanalysis

**A/N: Here it is, the conclusion of the minor cliffie. A few reviewers actually guessed it, so congrats to you (or bad me for not making it a big enough shock...). I don't know when the next chapter will be out; once again I've written myself into a wall with this one. Something about this story keeps making me do that! Enough, enjoy chapter fourteen! **

Chapter Fourteen: Psychoanalysis

Harry wasn't paying attention to the Ravenclaw, Patsy Campbell. He was whispering the spell under his breath, gripping his wand like a lifeboat.

And then he felt it.

A shiver of something ran down his spine, a sort of freezing cold that was oddly warming on closer inspection. Harry felt himself being sucked into a void and he struggled against the feeling of being ripped from his physical state. It hurt! He wasn't going to go, he wouldn't allow himself to die! No!

Then, just as his panic reached its climax, he landed, flat on his back in the middle of the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Relief flooded him as he stared up at the familiar architecture.

It took a moment for him to realize why it was so silent; for the first time in memory, the portraits were completely quiet and the halls were abandoned. Adrenaline seared through his veins.

"_Who are you?_"a voice without sound breathed into Harry's ear.

Harry jumped back, his heart in his throat. He was about to draw his wand, his hand already touching the smooth piece of holly, when comforting warmth enveloped him. Part of him wanted to fight the calming waves, but a bigger part snuffed it out.

"_Relax_," the "voice" ordered softly. "_Show me who you are_."

Harry found himself moving before he even comprehended the voice's meaning. He didn't like the lack of control, it was too much like being under the Imperious Curse, and forced himself to stop. "I'll go, but I'm walking myself."

The voice seemed oddly thrilled as it relinquished its grip. A wave of the same feeling he got when he pleased Dumbledore filled Harry. Harry ignored it and continued walking.

He'd been walking for about a minute before he stopped in front of a painting of a girl transfiguring a teacup into a miniature dragon, or at least, that's what he'd expected to see. What he really saw was his cupboard at number four Privet Drive, his "bedroom" before his first letter.

Harry blinked. How, no _why_, was there a painting of his cupboard at Hogwarts? No one knew about it, surely? He'd been so careful!

The surface of the painting shimmered and suddenly Harry was inside the tiny space under the stairs.

OOOOOO

Harry looked around. The colors were muted and the sound of his breathing echoed strangely, as if he were at the bottom of a deep cavern.

Then the door opened and a young Harry, no older than five, fell into the cupboard. Right through the teenage version.

"Stay in there, boy. Don't touch anything!" Teenage Harry shivered at the sound of his aunt's shrieked words. The younger didn't as much as react as look resigned to being locked in his cupboard while Aunt Petunia went to fetch "Dudders" from his friend's house.

The teenager watched as Harry listened for the sound of his aunt slamming the front door. That clicked in the sixteen year-old's memory. He remembered the day. He followed his younger self out the freshly picked cupboard door and to the back garden.

The five year-old hesitated, fearful, before creeping to the bushes growing on the edge of the Dursley's yard and making a beeline for the corner shrub. He crouched down and tenderly pushed the leaves aside to reveal a small nest of two small eggs.

One of the eggs was shaking and a crack appeared in the shell before Harry's very eyes. A smile transformed the young wizard's taut face.

"Come on," the boy whispered to the little egg. "You can do it."

As if encouraged by young Harry's gentle prodding, the egg rocked harder and then, slowly, a beak appeared, poking out of the shell to greet the world.

Future-Harry watched as his younger self greeted the baby bird, counting the seconds. Just as he reached fifty, he heard the noise he'd known was coming the moment he saw his past self waiting to pick the lock.

"Wha' you doing, Freak?" Dudley Dursley cried, waddling down the steps to the Harrys' positions in front of the corner bush. "Daddy says freaks don't belong outside unless they're working. You working, Freak?"

Young Harry had jumped at his cousin's voice and was now trying to block the nest and hatchlings from the thicker boy.

"What're they?" Harry's efforts were for not, Dudley had seen the nest. Memory-Harry froze.

Teenage Harry observed himself, not bothering to spare a glance for his cousin. He saw the debate in young Harry's eyes and the pain from landing on his wrist after Dudley pushed him aside. He saw the fire light in his bright emerald eyes as Dudley leaned in to touch the still-wet hatchling and its sibling's quaking shell.

"No! Don't touch them!" Harry cried from his position on the grass.

Dudley sneered in a perfect imitation of his father. "Why, Freak? They're just a couple a' birds!" He lifted his foot high to stamp hard on the little birds. He brought his foot down and it connected…with an invisible shield.

Dudley tried again, harder than the first, but to the same result. He seemed to remember his cousin as his eyes snapped to the boy. He opened his mouth to order the freak to stop doing whatever he was doing, but no words came out.

Viewing the scene from Dudley's perspective, the teenage Harry could understand the boy's fear. Young Harry was no longer sprawled on the grass but standing erect, eyes sparkling with emerald determination, jaw set in anger. "Get. Away. From. Them," he said slowly, his voice cold and sure. "Leave. Them. Alone!"

Dudley Dursley was thrown from the nest with a loud "AWW!" He scrambled backwards, his expression one of terror and multiple chins shaking in fear, but only future Harry was watching him. The other was tending to the new birds and didn't even look up when Dudley screamed for his mother and ran as fast as his fat, little legs could carry him back into the house.

Harry had seen enough. The voice didn't need to see his uncle's reaction to the day's events. Didn't need to see his younger self cry himself to sleep as Vernon hammered a second and third lock into the door of his cupboard. No, this voice wasn't going to see that.

"We are leaving!" Harry shouted upwards to the voice.

"_We are not done_," came the reply.

"We are!" Harry clasped his wand and lurched forward as if leaving a pensive memory. With a gut-wrenching flop, he was once again staring into the painting of his cupboard. "Thank you," he said to the painting, not feeling very cordial toward the voice that wanted to pry into his personal memories.

Harry stood there for a few seconds, wondering what to do, when he shrugged and continued his trek down the empty corridor of Hogwarts.

Harry soon realized that each painting was a memory, but there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for their organization. He passed his first day of primary school; a particular potions class that ended with Neville blowing up his fifth cauldron in second year; a training session with Oliver Wood; his first birthday at Godric's Hallow—here Harry stopped and watched the memory he didn't even know he had; a younger self weeding the Dursley's front yard; and many more. He walked on and on, every once in a while taking a moving staircase to another floor.

It felt like hours later when he finally reached the abandoned Gryffindor common room (protected by a memory of James flying with baby Harry and Lily telling him to be responsible). For the first time, Harry felt completely safe. He breathed in the familiar smell of parchment, spilled ink, burning wood, and that certain unique smell all rooms have but you can never quite place.

"_A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter._"

OOOOO

Harry opened his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to blink away the glowing fog obscuring his vision. No, not glowing, not fog, his inebriated mind revealed, but shimmering mist that was dancing as it molded into a figure. An animal. A panther.

OOOOO

"Did you see mine?" Ron exclaimed an hour later as everyone filed out of the classroom. "Wasn't it handsome? A greyhound…"

Hermione's lips twitched even as she said, "It is your patronus, Ronald."

"So what?" Ron replied. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Actually, it does," Harry commented. He shrugged at Ron's accusing stare. "Hermione could make an argument that it means that you see yourself as your protector."

"A bit narcissistic of you, ay Ronnikins?" Ginny replied, pushing herself between Hermione and Harry.

"Hey!"

"What about my fox? Wasn't it beautiful?" Ginny continued, ignoring Ron's indignant spluttering.

"It wasn't as wicked as mine," Ron persisted.

"I don't know," Harry whispered to Hermione. Raising his voice to more a stage-whisper, he said, "I thought Luna's bat fit her perfectly."

Hermione nodded. "Definitely."

The four Gryffindors continued to their common room, Ron still stubbornly defending his future shape. No one noticed Neville's absence.

OOOOOO

"Professor," Neville began as soon as the last student (Luna) had drifted out of the room.

James stopped transforming the pillows back into desks and dragged himself out of his proud thoughts about his son's animal form. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville stepped closer. "I think there's been a mistake. My form—"

James inhaled before Neville finished, and nodded slowly. He sat down and pulled a desk closer to his. "Sit down."

Neville closed his mouth and sat down. He looked at his hands at mumbled, "I think I did the spell wrong."

"Now that's wrong," James said firmly, looking the self-conscious wizard straight on. He contemplated calling for a house elf and having tea sent up, but decided against it. "You did it right."

"But sir, how can I be—I mean I'm not—" Neville tried to explain, but the words weren't coming out.

James recognized the symptoms. Remus had acted almost exactly the same way when they'd told him their plan to become animagi. Then, Sirius had cracked a joke and they'd gotten Remus to relax before turning the werewolf's skin green and forcing him to let them do it by holding the counter-charm hostage. Somehow James didn't think that was the way to go with Neville, however. Instead of pranking him, James pulled Neville's desk (and to Neville's surprise, him) close enough to reach his shoulder.

"Neville, look at me." James' voice was more serious than Neville had ever heard it, but even so, Neville could have sworn he'd heard the same power behind it somewhere before and recently too, but try as he might, he couldn't place it. He obeyed. "You are exactly what the spell said you were."

Neville looked his professor in the eye, searching the bright hazel for reassurance. Wait, weren't Professor Paxton's eyes a chocolate brown? It didn't matter. Neville still felt the sincerity and couldn't help but believe it. He nodded.

James leaned back and suddenly the professor who cracked bad jokes and turned too-slow students blue was back. "Now scat before mean ole Snape-kins catches you out past curfew."

Neville stood up. He was about to leave when he suddenly remembered James. "Professor?"

James looked up from transforming the last cushion.

"Thank you." He was gone before James could reply.

James stared at the door and shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. It was amazing how much Neville reminded him of Remus during their school days. The smile grew a bit. If Neville were like Remus, he would figure it all out. One day soon Neville would see the bear James did.

OOOOOO

Harry couldn't figure out what he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed that he wasn't a deer or not, or whether he liked the thought of being a _panther_ any more than a stag.

What would Sirius say at a time like this? Harry snorted quietly in the dark of his four-poster bed. He knew exactly what Sirius would have done. He would have made some crack about a panther being a woman's animal. He could see it in his mind's eye.

_"A panther? Let's see…panthers, cougars, women. You're an old woman!"_

He smiled as he imagined how Remus would have responded.

"_Sirius! Panthers are noble creatures. They are jaguars. In divination, jaguars represent power and valor in future acts. Do you know what your shape represents?"_

Yeah, that was Lupin. Harry snorted again. What would his father have said?

_ "You want the simplified version, Padfoot? You're death, buddy._"

Harry's improvised Marauder meeting evaporated. Death. Sirius was death. Sirius was dead. So was his father. And he was the symbol of femininity and darkness. The powers that be hated him.


	17. Unplanned

**A/N: I have no apologies or excuses. I just want to thank those readers who have kept with me and continued to read and review, even through my horrible delays. This is the chapter most of you have been waiting for. I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter Fifteen: Unplanned

Remus Lupin could feel the moon rising even as he walked briskly toward the entrance hall to get to the Shrieking Shack. After that dreadful night two-something years ago, Remus had sworn never to ride out the full moon where the wolf might harm a student, wolfsbane or not, but here he was, breaking that promise.

When Snape had told him to remain close to Hogwarts so that he could test the modifications he'd made to the potion, Remus hadn't been as worried about sleeping in the shack as he had been by Snape tampering with the one thing that made him (moderately) safe during the apex of the moon cycle.

"That is ridiculous. If my hypothesis is correct, you should feel nothing during your transformation," Snape had snapped, already back to the potion he'd been grading when Remus had knocked on his office door.

The werewolf had been a little surprised that Severus Snape of all people would be so, well, compassionate, to even remember the pain that came with the change. If the potion for the wolf—"Wait, you said 'if my hypothesis is correct'. What happens if it's not?"

If the bat of the dungeons had been capable of shrugging, that's how Remus would have described Snape's response. "Either the whole potion will fail and the wolf will go mad with pain or you will die."

"'Mad with…' There is a chance Moony will go insane _and _be in control?" Remus had gone almost as pale as the resident potions master, and he'd suddenly had the powerful urge to throw up the revolting, possibly torturous, potion he'd chugged five minutes prior. Then his eyes had widened comically. "And you want Moony in howling distance of the students? Are you mad?"

Snape had written something in his grade book and looked up before he'd answered. "Yes."

"_Yes_?" Remus hadn't been sure what was more infuriating: Snape's seeming indifference to the extremely likely danger he was subjecting the students to, or that he'd fiddled with the wolfsbane in the first place.

Snape had prevented further argument by saying calmly, "You have little choice now, however, unless you trust yourself to get to Hogsmeade and apparate to wherever you normally change in less than twenty minutes."

_"He's brewing the potion and I'm taking it!"_

Remus couldn't help overhearing the argument that was going on in an abandoned classroom that had startled him out of his memory. It was a myth that werewolves had heightened senses while in human form, but he didn't need super-hearing to hear the "conversation". Nor did he need to slow down, but he did anyway—old habits die hard and Remus was nothing if not a loyal Marauder.

_"Do you know what could happen if the great bat screws up?"_

The male voice was familiar, but Remus knew it was impossible that his first impression was correct. He probably remembered it from an Order meeting. If not from the Order, then it was just because he always used to associate that type of argument with _them_. And Moony often (more so since Padfoot had returned) forgot that his pack leader was dead.

_"Ja—Don't you think…"_

Remus stopped mid-step. What had the female started to say? A strong feeling of "I told you so" swept through his conscious. Moony was waking up. Remus had to get to the shack fast!

OOOOOO

"I don't need your approval! I _died_ to save my son from that bastard, don't think I wouldn't risk my sanity for the same thing!" Lily stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door on her way out.

James stood on the same spot, waves of annoyance, frustration, and fear crashing over him. On one hand, he could understand his wife's passion. On the other, he knew he couldn't live with himself if she died. He'd never tell her, but he'd faced Voldemort that night, faced certain death, not only to give his wife and son a chance to life (and, granted, that had been the primary reason), but also so that if Voldemort did manage to do the unthinkable and kill his family, he wouldn't have to watch them suffer.

The idea of seeing his love, the one person he was supposed to be with, gone, crazy, out of his grasp… James shuddered. He needed to get out. Away. Fast

OOOOOO

Remus was running outright now. He was almost to the willow when he shuddered violently, the hand that had been reaching to grab a stick to prod the knot that would freeze the tree snapped to his side as he closed his eyes. He used his last few seconds to pray that the monster clawing its way out of the darkness would just die, or at least run, before a student did.

His world went black.

OOOOOO

Remus blinked. And blinked again. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was—Remus sprang up. On four legs.

Remus twisted around and Moony's mangy tail swatted him on the nose. Remus sat on his haunches and howled in unadulterated ecstasy. He didn't care how it'd happened. It didn't matter, because for the first time since his fourth birthday, the full moon didn't mean pain.

There was no backstabbing, mindboggling torture of freshly aligned bones, no muscle spasms from being yanked in different directions, and perhaps best of all, the wolf's conscious wasn't just drugged into submission, it was dead to the world. Remus had control of a pain free and energetic body.

He howled again and leapt into the air like a puppy. But then he saw something and that something proved this was all a dream. How else could that particular stag be standing in front of him?

OOOOOO

James hadn't planned on transforming. He'd been at the top of Hogwarts' steps, intending to cool his spinning thoughts down by the tree that the Marauders had often visited in their youth—the same tree where James had first realized he truly loved Lily "Bookworm" Evans back in third year. He'd set one foot on the next step when he'd heard the first howl.

He'd recognized it immediately, having spent almost every month from the start of his fifth year to his first death keeping that howler in check. And tonight it was much closer to the school than anyone liked or needed.

What if Moony attacked a student? What if someone saw him and got a good shot in? What if he lost his last pack mate? Those thoughts and more must have flitted across James' mind, but they didn't register completely as Prongs was already leaping down the steps and charging to his pack mate's side.

But what he saw stopped his hooves a few feet away from said mate's side.

Prongs' mind went into overdrive. Moony was leaping. Leaping. Prongs had seen enough werewolf transformations to know that one, no matter how crazy the werewolf, one would never leap; two, the pain of assuming the pseudo-wolf/dog shape was painful enough to keep the werewolf stunned for at least thirty minutes; and three, no ordinary wolf could jump like that, in pain or otherwise.

Then Moony's eyes met Prongs' and Prongs knew. No wolf could have so much longing and hope behind his eyes.

All at once, Prongs knew it was time. He no longer cared about Dumbledore or keeping his distance. His last friend—no, brother—needed him. Prongs took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Without opening them, James pulled his wand from its holster and reversed the spells that had hid the truth from his pack for so long.

OOOOOO

Remus didn't know what he should be feeling. Betrayal and joy surely, but he was only numb as he followed the man who'd prodded the knot on the tree and was leading the way into the tunnel toward the Shrieking Shack. This was all a dream, right? He'd wake up tomorrow to Ministry aurors carting him off to Azkaban for attacking Hogwarts and Dumbledore's disappointed stare. He'd wake up and Sirius and James would still be dead. He'd wake up to nothing but the knowledge that he was the last Marauder, the last of his pack.

If wolves could cry, Remus would, but they can't, so Remus raised his head and howled. He howled at the unforgiving moon and the cluster of stars making up his best friend's shape in the sky, and the pain of being the last of his pack swelled until he wanted nothing more than to claw his fractured soul out of his body. He couldn't take any more of this, couldn't they see? Couldn't the universe see that it was time to stop playing with Remus John Lupin? His cries echoed down the tunnel, shaking dirt loose and making the air thick with soil particles, but he didn't care.

Firm hands forced his snout down and eyes the sorrowful werewolf knew were hazel even if they were gray in his present form met his. His next howl caught in his throat.

James pulled his brother into his arms, not caring that guys don't hug for once. Remus was enveloped in the scent that no matter how many times he'd wished for it or Moony had begged, he hadn't smelled in fifteen years. The smell that was so like Harry's and yet all together different. The swirl of what Sirius had once called "a la Jamesikins" convinced Remus that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone.

His mind was just processing that thought when Remus felt the strong arms loosen and push him away. Remus scrambled to all four feet, preparing to wake up in Azkaban, when he heard it.

"I am so sorry."

For the millionth time in a few long minutes, Remus was frozen. Why was a dream telling him he was sorry? Shouldn't _he _be the one apologizing? If this were really James, be it him in person or ghost, he needed to know that he, Remus Lupin, was the one who didn't save Sirius. He was the one who'd let Dumbledore place his son with Lily's sister. He was the one too obsessed with proving he wasn't the traitor to realize who was until it was much too late. James needed to know that everything that had happened to the Marauders since their graduation, every bad thing, was his fault.

It took Remus a couple of seconds to realize James was crying. That more than anything struck him to the core and convinced him beyond a doubt that this was no dream. No figment of his imagination could make him see something he'd never seen in his life. He had never seen James cry, not even when his parents had died in their seventh year. James Potter was too strong for that.

Not for the first or the last time that night, Remus wished he could speak. He settled for pushing his bony side against James. James curled his knees up to his chest and pushed against Remus' back as he let out all the bottled emotions, much as Remus had minutes ago.

OOOOOO

The tears had long ago stopped flowing and dried on James' cheeks, and the reunited brothers were still sitting, slightly cramped, in the pitch-black tunnel when James broke the silence. "I guess you want the whole story." It wasn't a question.

Remus lifted his head and laid it back down in a way he hoped conveyed that yes, he did, but only if James was ready to tell it all. He was a patient man only to an extent.

James cracked a small smile. "Yeah, I'm ready." His smile faded and he took a deep breath. "Do you remember that old legend about the Mirror of Erised?..."

OOOOO

"You recognize the risks?" Snape confirmed as he carefully measured the misty cerulean concoction into a goblet.

Lily nodded and took the goblet. Summoning her courage, she poured the recollection potion down her throat as quickly as possible while trying not to gag at the foul taste.

She just had time to wish James were here or that she'd been calm enough to tell him she was doing it now in person instead of by note before she was sucked into the void.


	18. Response

**A/N: I never planned to post this year, as I am still on my exchange in Belgium, but, well, homesickness hits at the worst times and makes people do unplanned things. But because I am posting, and I am in Belgium, on a foreign computer, without Microsoft Word, or good-old American spell-check, please be nice. As my French gets better, I'm seeing my English get worse...**

Chapter Sixteen: Response

Everything was fuzzy. Were things supposed to be fuzzy? Lily wasn't sure. Lily tried to clear her mind. She could feel something touching—was it her hand? She couldn't be sure as her whole body felt detached and jumbled. She'd have to open her eyes to make sure. Now how was that done again? Oh yeah.

Lily pried her eyes open and blinked drunkenly at the figure lying over her hand. It had messy brown—no it should be black, Lily corrected herself—hair and its glasses were pressed lopsidedly against its nose and right side.

"James?" Lily whispered. Her throat was coated with phlegm and her voice cracked mid-word.

James lifted his head, his eyes unfocused before they snapped to his wife's groggy gaze and relief spread across his face, burning away the worry and despair. "You're awake! Thank Merlin. Poppy said—" he broke off and pulled his love to his chest. He was mumbling into her hair, but Lily was too muddled to understand him.

All too soon for the couple, Poppy appeared to shoo James away. Lily didn't want him to go, but she couldn't muster the strength to argue with the intimidating healer.

"How are you feeling?" Poppy asked, not unkindly. Lily tried to sit up, but Poppy stopped her. "Oh no you don't. You gave us all a right scare. You've been unconscious for almost a week, you know."

"A week?" Lily sputtered. "I have to check on the girls. My classes…" She made to get up, but Poppy held her back again.

"I assure you the twins are perfectly fine with Mr. Weasley and Professor Lupin has your classes well under control."

"I should still—"

"No!" Poppy ordered sharply, shutting Lily up for the moment. She sighed and clicked her tongue. "And people think the young Mr. Potter gets his irrational fear of the hospital wing from his father. Really, Professor, did you truly believe I didn't know?" she added, seeing Lily's stunned expression.

Her scolding effectively shocked the resolve to escape out of Lily. She had been so careful! She'd even had James transform her hair and adjust her cheekbones to make sure it would be good (transfiguration had always been her weakest subject) and when Poppy had delivered the twins, she'd made an effort to use James' alias even when she was cursing him to high heaven.

"Why didn't you say something before?" she finally managed to squeak.

Madame Pomfrey held out a potion, having used Lily's momentary stillness to cast multiple diagnostic spells over the professor. "It never came up. Now take this."

Lily swallowed the disgusting potion. "How did you know?" she asked when the "liquid" had slid sufficiently down her throat.

"After all the lies I get told working in a place like this! It takes more than a good spell or two to fool this old witch!" Poppy exclaimed, using her wand to tuck in the covers of Lily's bed so tightly Lily wouldn't be able to get up even if she tried.

Lily wanted to continue her interrogation, but the potion she'd drunk—a sleeping drought, she suddenly recalled—was starting to take affect. Her eyelids dropped even as she fought to stay awake. She lasted only a couple more seconds before she was drawn into oblivion.

OOOOOOO

"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!"

Lily's eyes flung open at her daughters' chorus the next morning. She only had time to sit up before two bundles of energy jumped onto her bed.

"Fawnies! What did I tell you?"

Lily looked over Mary's dark red head to see her handsome (even under his disguise he was sexy enough to make her heart skip a beat) husband. He looked considerably better with a good night's sleep. The bags under his eyes that had accumulated over a week of worry were smaller, if not entirely gone. He'd shaved and his robes were a startling but regal purple. Under normal circumstances, Lily would have berated him for not dressing in the standard black required for teachers, but she loved the color and she knew he'd worn them for her. The thought made her heart flutter again.

"Hello, my dears!" Lily cried, dropping her gaze from her, quite frankly, perfect husband, to smile at her twins.

"Mummy!" Daisy gasped, hugging her mother tighter. "We missed you so, so much," she said, while Mary nodded fervently along.

"We all missed you," James added, leaning over his daughters to give his wife a kiss. "Don't ever do that to us again," he whispered into her ear.

"Yeah, 'cause we didn't like it," Mary spoke.

Lily smiled and shook her head, overjoyed to see her family around her. The joy was hampered, however, when Lily suddenly remembered that her whole family wasn't there. Her son wasn't with them. But, she forced herself to remember, soon he would be. She and James were only waiting for the right time to tell him. Though she knew the longer they waited the harder it would be, they were terrified that he would reject them. They had waited almost six years; they could wait another few weeks. At least, Lily hoped she could.

Lily was pulled out of her thoughts by Daisy sitting up and bouncing on her legs. "When will you be out of here, Mummy?"

"This place is scary," Mary added, her voice low.

Lily laughed and pulled them closer. "I know, but I'll be out soon."

"Oh," they both said at almost the same time. There was silence for a second before James had to break it.

"Pansy," the name still felt strange on his tongue, even after years of use, "I am sorry, but I have to go."

Lily looked up. "Why?"

"Classes. I wish I could stay—"

"No, of course not," Lily broke in. She wanted her husband to remain with her, but her rational side knew she couldn't deprive his students of his tutorage. Knowing him, he'd probably been neglecting them the past week also. "I'll be fine."

James kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you too." Lily looked down at her girls again. They'd been watching the exchange with rare patience. "Do you want to go with Daddy?"

"No. We want to stay with you," Mary said while Daisy answered, "We've been with Ron all week."

"Really?" Lily wasn't surprised, but she was a little disappointed that her husband hadn't been watching them. Then again, she reasoned, if James were the one in the hospital bed, she probably wouldn't have been as attentive as she would have liked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James hesitate at the door, watching his daughters and wife, before he left for his seventh year class. "Were you good?"

"Of course, Mummy," Daisy replied.

"What did you do?"

Daisy and Mary exchanged a look. "We listened to Ron, and did everything Hermione told us."

Lily didn't like the sound of that. "What did she tell you?"

"Nothing," they both said at once.

Lily raised her eyebrow and focused her attention on Mary, as she was the one most likely to crack. It only took a few seconds. "We gave back Harry's laces and we listened to her, even though the book was _boring_." Lily fought not to laugh at the shared expression of disgust on both of their faces.

"I helped Ron beat Harry and Mary in chess!" Daisy suddenly broke in.

"We would have won!" her twin shot back. "But Harry's castle-thingy and horsey moved the wrong way."

"I bet they did," Lily moderated. She loved listening to her babies tell her stories. It was one of the many things she missed about not being able to raise Harry. The knife in her chest reared again before dulling back into the subtle ache of longing. She hadn't noticed his absence so much in years.

"Uncle Moony told us stories. Did you know Daddy and Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot is the Marauders?"

Lily was about to correct Daisy's grammar when she realized the twins had just used the Mauraders' names. James had of course told them about their 'uncles' but she didn't remember him ever using their pack-names; he'd once confessed that it hurt too much. Yet another question that needed answering.

"Uncle Moony says Uncle Padfoot's—" Daisy was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey appearing all at once at Lily's bedside.

"Your mother needs her rest," the healer said. "Mr. Weasley should be here any moment now."

"But we haven't told her about how Hermione made Ron's chessboard bite him—"

"She says he should've be working," Mary finished.

"He should've _been _working," Lily corrected automatically.

"You can tell her all about Miss Granger's spell-work and Mr. Weasley's laziness when you come back in a few hours. Don't you want your mother to get out of here soon?" Madame Pomfrey replied, once again demonstrating near-Dumbledore-ish omniscience.

OOOOOO

Ron had already been and taken the twins and Lily had fallen into a bored (Madame Pomfrey had firmly deigned her request to get a book) stupor, when Professor Dumbledore appeared at the doors of the wing.

The medi-witch was already at the door, forbidding the headmaster entrance, before Lily could think. "No Albus, Lily must rest."

"I am afraid, Poppy, that I must speak with her." Lily was shocked that Dumbledore appeared not to be surprised that Madame Pomfrey had used her real name. Did _everyone_ know?

The healer hesitated, recognizing the tone in Dumbledore's voice. She grumbled as she stepped aside. "Fifteen minutes, Albus, no more! She's been through a terrible ordeal. She needs rest."

"No more than twenty minutes, I promise," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement as Poppy puffed out her chest, preparing to inform him that she'd said _fifteen_ and not twenty, but Dumbledore deftly flicked his wand and sat down on the newly appeared armchair next to Lily's bed. Poppy seemed to realize that Dumbledore was no longer listening and turned on her heel to grumble in her office about trying to save lives and not getting any respect for her troubles.

The headmaster waited until the witch was back in her office before he addressed Lily. "So, my dear." Dumbledore's blue eyes lost a bit of their twinkle. "How are you?"

Lily smiled thinly. "Bored, but I will be fine as soon as Poppy lets me get back to work."

"Yes, she can be a little overbearing, as well you know. Especially when her patient, and dare I say it, her friend, is only recently returned from the brink of death." Dumbledore pulled something out of the inside pocket of his orange with yellow strips robe. He offered her the pouch of lemon drops, and when she refused, shrugged and popped one in his mouth. "As much as I enjoy lemon drops, I do believe we must get down to business."

Lily nodded solemnly. "Severus' potion worked. I remember how to destroy the horcux."

Lily could now remember everything from her "past" life. The potion had had the side effect of clearing the cobwebs that had surrounded that part of her history, but only the day she'd found out how to destroy the evil anchor of Voldemort's soul was in sharp relief. It was like the day kept replaying; it was too sharp to be a memory. Harry had been in the living room with James and Sirius when she'd read the passage, and his year-old laughter had woken her twice last night.

A lump formed again in her throat even as she tried to push the sound back into the background of the memory.

Dumbledore noticed her discomfort. "Would you like to tell me, or would you prefer I view the memory from my pensive?"

Lily hated that she was too weak to be able to control the guilt and longing that the memory had revived in her. She wanted to be able to tell Dumbledore, but she knew instead of telling him how to get rid of the soul fragment, she'd describe Harry's young laugh, and that would never do.

She couldn't make herself speak around the lump in her throat, so she just felt the nightstand for her wand. She grasped its handle, the wood warm and comforting to her touch, and put the tip against her temple. She focused all her willpower on the essence of the memory, forcing herself to distance the emotions from the past. With immense effort, she drew the wand away from her head, the shimmering wisps clinging to the tip. She watched them as they melted into a beautiful, swirling plasma in the bottle Dumbledore had conjured.

"Albus! I have given you twenty minutes!" Poppy cried from her office.

Dumbledore stood up, corking the little bottle as he did so. "Thank you, Lily. This will no doubt be extremely beneficial."

Lily nodded and surprised herself by falling asleep before Dumbledore had even crossed the threshold out of the hospital wing.

OOOOOO

Dumbledore pulled himself out of the pensive. He stood, looking at the swirling colors of Lily's memory for a moment, digesting what he'd seen.

The memory had been clearer than most, no doubt because of the recollection potion, but Dumbledore wasn't reflecting on its brilliant clarity, or for that matter, on the information he'd gleaned on horcruxes. No, Dumbledore was thinking about the other parts of the memory.

He was sure Lily hadn't meant to give him so much. Besides reading the information on horcruxes with memory-Lily, Dumbledore had also experienced her longing for her son. That in itself was disturbing—when one viewed a memory through a pensive, one was an observer, not a participant—but combined with the feelings he'd felt as Lily, the great Albus Dumbledore was shaken.

He'd known that keeping the Potters from their son would have emotional effects, how could he not, but he hadn't known just how deep those emotions ran. He had never been so overwhelmed by emotion, nor so unsure of his decisions.

Fawkes cried out from his perch in the corner, and Dumbledore shook his head like a dog shakes off water. Fawkes was right; he had only done what he must. The war had to be won, and if it took a boy without parents or a mother without a son, well, that's what it took.

Dumbledore gathered Voldemort's ring, careful not to touch it, and Fawkes dropped him in front of the strip of wall outside of the Room of Requirement. He had a horcrux to destroy.


End file.
